


the play's the thing

by hipgrab (merrymegtargaryen)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of Suicide, Theatre AU, aka my old job but sexier and with a better ending, mentions of sexual harassment and assault, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymegtargaryen/pseuds/hipgrab
Summary: Rey works a thankless front of house job at one of Chicago's most elite theaters. Kylo Ren is directing their next production and also happens to be the son of their artistic director. Too bad Rey finds this out after insulting him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooooo everyone! I've been working on this fic for a while now and I'm really excited to finally share it with you! 
> 
> I used to be a FOH usher at an elite theater in Chicago, so a huge chunk of this fic is based off of my experiences there. Including Rey's run-in with Kylo Ren. Yeah. If you have any questions about anything please ask!
> 
> There are eleven chapters in this fic, and since most of them are relatively small, I aim to update every five days or so. 
> 
> Please do comment and let me know what you think! Am open to constructive criticism (as long as it is actually constructive and not just criticism). 
> 
> Finally, a HUGE thank you to aionimica for betaing!! This fic would not have been possible without her.

“Okay everyone,” Poe says over the radio. “We’ve got about ten minutes left before the end of the show. Rey, what’s your twenty?”

Rey hits the button on her mic. “Coming down dress circle stairs now.”

“Wait there.”

She does, inwardly groaning because this can’t be good. 

Sure enough, Poe skips up the stairs with a please-don’t-be-mad-at-me smile. “Reeeey…”

“Oh god, what?”

“We’re trying the ticket scanners again tonight.”

Rey’s entire face falls. “Poe,  _ noooo _ …”

“I know. I know,” he sighs. “I strongly protested, but...you know how it is.”

“Have you tried telling them that our Saints are corpses who don’t understand technology?” But she knows he has. The Saints belong to an organization that coordinates them with theaters so that, in exchange for tearing tickets and passing out programs, they can see shows without paying a dollar. Unfortunately, their ranks are made almost entirely of entitled and incompetent geriatrics. As much as she hates interacting with the elderly volunteer ushers, she only has to deal with a fraction of them. Poe, on the other hand, as the house manager, has to deal with  _ all _ of them.

“And I’m in dress circle tonight,” Rey whines. “Which means I get the rejects.”

“I know, hon,” he says in a soothing tone. “Just please promise me you’ll give it a try. You know how leadership is about these stupid scanners.”

She does. No one in leadership has ever worked front of house in their lives, something that becomes obvious whenever they implement new procedures for the FOH crew. Lately, it’s been ticket scanners. The scanners are a good idea in theory because it means that the ushers don’t have to keep up with ticket stubs and because no one in the box office has to scan each individual stub. In practice, however, the scanners refuse to connect to the wifi, and even when they do, the Saints either hold up patrons because they take forever to figure them out, or they let everyone in no matter what shows up on the scanner, which has led to more than a few double ticketing issues. No matter how many times Poe expresses that the scanners are more trouble than they’re worth, leadership keeps pushing because Chicago’s other prominent theaters have them, so the Coruscant should, too. 

“I’ll give it a try,” she says, relenting. “But you know we’ll end up tearing tickets.”

“I know,” he says.  “Just try the scanners so I can honestly tell leadership we tried ‘em.”

Rey groans before stomping back up the stairs. “Okay.” 

She’s been working at the Coruscant Theater for almost a year now, which, because of the turnover rate, makes her a seasoned veteran. She got the job less than twenty-four hours after moving to the city, and at the time, she’d thought it was a sign that this was where she was meant to be. She, Rey Niima, aspiring actor, would get to work in one of Chicago’s top three theaters. Everything was falling into place.

Everything fell, all right, but not necessarily into the right places. 

The job pays minimum wage and the hours are all over the place. Rey feels constantly exhausted. Once every three or four months the theater will go dark for a few weeks, which means they can all finally catch up on sleep, but it also means that there are no shows, which means that there is no need for ushers, which means they don’t get paid. Rey has to fill in the gaps with babysitting and dog-walking. And of course, rehearsals.

Like almost everyone who works front of house, Rey is an actor. She’s subscribed to dozens of callboards and checks her Backstage account several times a week. She goes to auditions what feels like all the time, desperately trying to stand out from all the other skinny brunettes in this city. She almost never gets parts because she has almost no training and very little on her resume and there’s always another girl who’s prettier and does the lines better. That doesn’t stop Rey from trying. 

She gets back up to dress circle in time for curtain. She hates Saturdays because they always have a matinee and an evening show, and they’re also the two most-attended shows of the week. Somewhere downstairs, Poe shuts off the speakers and the theater goes blissfully quiet for a couple of minutes. Rey waits for the roar of applause, then swings the doors open. At once, patrons who think they won’t have to deal with traffic if they leave now begin to stampede, and Rey wisely moves out of the way. She doesn’t even fully wait for the patrons to clear out before she marches in with her trash bag and rubber gloves, throwing half-drunken cups of wine and what feels like five dozen cough drop wrappers in her bag. As soon as the last patron shuffles out, she shuts the doors and books it backstage.

Technically, probably, front of house isn’t allowed backstage--they are, after all, in the  _ front _ of the house. But the crew is too focused on tidying up so that they, too, can have a decent break before the next show. 

Rey passes them on her way to the dressing rooms. She rounds the corner and lets out a small squeal as Finn swings his arms around her, pinning her against his sweaty chest. “Peanut!” he exclaims. “I’m hungry, let’s  _ go _ !”

“Yes, please.” 

They link hands and dash for the back door. The streets are flooded with tourists and visiting suburbanites and 9-5ers trying to enjoy their weekend. A couple people recognize Finn and say, “You did very well!” like he’s a teenager they saw perform at a high school play. He takes it in stride, though, thanking them as generously as he’s able to while power-walking to the McDonald’s around the corner. It’s blissfully only slightly crowded, being only 4:30 in the afternoon, and he and Rey are able to get their food without much fuss. They dash back to the theater and eat in the FOH break room, where they both chat with the ushers who filter in and out. Actors normally don’t hang out with front of house, but Finn is an exception because, up until a few months ago, he used to be one of them. A lot of the ushers at the Coruscant submit for casting calls, but only one or two of them has ever gotten as far as an audition. Finn is one of maybe three ushers in Coruscant’s history to ever actually be cast in a production. 

It’s a big deal and none of them can shut up about it. They’re all proud of Finn, who they know has worked his ass off to get this part, and they’re hopeful for what it might mean for them. The pragmatist in Rey says that just because Finn was successful doesn’t mean the other ushers will be, but the dreamer in her spends a lot of time thinking about becoming the next usher-turned-actor. 

“Are you auditioning for  _ Hamlet _ ?” Rose asks.

“Obviously I’m auditioning for  _ Hamlet _ ,” Finn says. “Don’t know if I’ll get it, but…”

The room immediately erupts in choruses of encouragement, Rey among them. Privately, Rey is of a mind with Finn: there’s no guarantee that he’ll be cast again. Obviously she loves her friend and thinks he deserves starring roles in every Coruscant production, but realistically, she knows that just because he’s in a show now doesn’t guarantee future work with the theater. She hates thinking it, and she would never say it to Finn, but she’s seen really good actors come here once and then never get asked back. Whenever the actors are shitty to her (which is semi-regularly), she just reminds herself that their time here is temporary. The one benefit of working as an usher is that Rey, meanwhile, doesn’t have to leave Coruscant until she wants to. 

Not that that’s such a great thing, when she’s getting paid minimum wage so that old people can yell at her and those actors are actually doing their craft and feeling good about themselves, probably. 

After a while, the ushers have to report for their Take 5 meeting, so Finn bids them all a good show and strolls backstage. As happy as Rey is for him, a selfish part of her misses him working front of house. He’s her best friend, and she wouldn’t have stuck around at this job if it wasn’t for him. 

“Okay, everyone,” Poe says as the lackluster ushers gather. “Welcome to  _ An Ideal Husband _ number 48. She’s getting on up there, probably about to hit menopause.” A few weak chuckles. “Okay, so, we are eighty percent sold tonight, not bad for a Saturday night.” He rattles off the various ushers and their positions and then gives them all a hesitant smile. “And...we’re gonna try the scanners again.”

The reaction is instantaneous. Poe winces. 

“I know, I know, but this is from leadership, so we’ve gotta do it.”

The ushers simmer in mute resentment. 

Saturday nights are always stressful, but tonight is doubly so for some reason. The patrons are all in a temper, complaining about the traffic even though it’s no heavier than the usual Saturday night traffic in downtown Chicago. Some of them try to get into the dress circle before house is open and one of them argues with Rey about theatre decorum. 

And then there are the tickets scanners, which predictably don’t work. Or at least, they work, but only when Rey is using them, because her Saints are old enough to have been eyewitnesses to the Great Chicago Fire and keep holding up the lines while they try to work the touch screen. By the time final call has been made, it’s all Rey can do to dash around the lobby and politely but firmly remind patrons that the show is about to start. 

They get started two minutes after eight, which is pretty good for a Saturday night. Unfortunately, the timely start means that they have a bunch of patrons to late seat. The ushers are running ragged, trying to seat patrons in accessible but comparable seats while the patrons kvetch about the traffic and how the theater really ought to call patrons to warn them about the traffic and how they absolutely must sit in Row A because they have a medical condition that apparently makes sitting in any other row impossible. 

She’s just finished seating some of the last patrons when a man follows her out. He’s tall and broad and has a presence that makes him seem much taller than he really is. Rey immediately feels her hackles rise as he stands mere inches in front of her. 

“Excuse me,” he says, and she just knows this isn’t going to be a pleasant interaction. “That was very distracting.”

Oh boy. “I understand,” she says, which is what she always says to patrons. Poe told her to say it because it demonstrates empathy. Rey says it to shut them up. “And I’m sorry that it distracted you.”

His nostrils flare. “You shouldn’t be seating people this late into the performance. They shouldn’t be allowed to take their seats until intermission.”

Privately, Rey agrees with him, because nothing is more distracting as either an actor or an audience member than seeing other audience members move around the theater. But she can’t very well say that, so she just nods and says, “I understand your frustration, and I will speak to my manager about this.”

He rolls his eyes. “Which is code for you won’t do anything.”

Poe is saying something over the radio, but Rey can’t hear over the blood roaring in her ears. “I will speak to my manager,” she repeats through a clenched smile. “I’m sorry you were distracted.”

“ _ You _ were the one distracting me, bringing people in late,” he says irritably. 

Rey gets it, she does. She hates being distracted from a show because people who couldn’t be bothered to show up on time are coming in late. But she is at the bottom of the theatrical totem pole and it’s not like she can do anything about it. “I am sorry about that--if you’d like to speak to the house manager about our late seating policy I’d be more than happy to--”

“It’s your  _ policy _ to interrupt the performance so people who can’t be bothered to show up on time get to see it anyway, after inconveniencing the rest of us?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she snaps. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline but she’s too fed up from late seating and now this asshole to check herself. “I have to late-seat people. It’s our policy. If you have a problem with it, you need to take it up with someone higher up, because I don’t have the authority and I’m not getting paid enough for some hipster fuck to mansplain my thankless job to me. Okay?”

There are two ways this can go. Either he’ll blow a lot of hot air but eventually back down and be too shaken to tell someone...or he’ll go to Poe or someone even higher up and tell them that Rey argued with him and called him a hipster fuck and of course he’ll have enough leverage that they’ll fire her.

There’s a long, pregnant pause as they stare at each other, his eyes wide and hers narrowed. Then, slowly, his brows lower, knitting together in a scowl as he leans all the way into her personal space. “You,” he enunciates, “have no idea who you’re messing with.” And with that, he storms back inside the theater.

“Asshat,” Rey mutters. She turns to head down the stairs and sees Poe, his eyes wide.

“Rey…” he says hoarsely. “Do you know who that was?”

Rey has a sinking feeling she’s about to.

“That’s Kylo Ren. He’s the guest director for  _ Hamlet _ . He’s also Leia’s son.”

Rey is definitely getting fired.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied, I wasn't sure if I'd be around tomorrow, so you're getting an update a day early. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind comments so far--please keep them coming! You have no idea how encouraging they are.

Rey does not, in fact, get fired. She does have a panic attack in the break room, where Poe reassures her that he’s not letting her get fired.

“Look, I know Kylo...he’s an asshole,” he tells her. “I’ll talk to Leia.”

That only makes Rey panic harder, even after Poe promises that Leia will be far more sympathetic to her side of the story than Kylo’s.

“But he’s her  _ son _ ,” she blubbers. “And he’s the new guest director!”

“He’s still an asshole and you were just doing your job.”

“I called him a mansplaining hipster fuck.”

“Nothing in that sentence is wrong, though.”

He offers to let Rey go home early, but that feels too much like being fired; besides, she could really use the money. So she stays, switching out with BeeBee so she gets the gallery while they take the dress circle.  That way she won’t run into Kylo Ren again unless he comes upstairs to find her.

He doesn’t, for the record; Poe radios Rey to inform her that “Prince Valiant has left the building” and later tells her that as far as he knows, Kylo Ren didn’t say anything about his encounter with Rey to anyone.

That comes as only a small relief; he might say something to Leia, later, or to someone else. Or he might decide to hold it over her head.

“You’re overthinking this,” Finn tells her while they wait for the train. “I mean, not to burst your bubble or anything, but...he probably won’t remember this.”

“How could he not remember being called a hipster fuck? By an  _ usher _ ?”

“That’s just it, though; you’re an usher,” Finn points out. The train comes screaming into the station and Finn raises his voice. “Guys like that don’t see service workers as people, so he’ll probably forget all about this because he doesn’t see you as a person.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Rey concedes as they board the train. It’s packed as always, so they hang onto the grips and sway with the train. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” he says sincerely. “If he gives you shit, I’ll fuck him up.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Peanut.”

But she knows that Finn wouldn’t really fuck up Kylo Ren. He’s just gotten his big break and will need to stay in Coruscant’s good graces now more than ever. Fucking up the artistic director’s son is not the way to go about that. 

.

Over a week passes without incident. Rey doesn’t see Kylo Ren or even hear about him. She doesn’t get fired, which is the important thing, and she begins to wonder if maybe Finn is right--maybe Ren really did just...forget she exists.

And then they begin auditions for  _ Hamlet _ . 

The auditions are during the day and are always over before Rey is called for her shifts, but some days they overlap just enough that Ren is leaving the theater right as Rey is beginning her shift. The first time it happens, she freezes in the middle of the lobby, sure that he’s going to say something where everyone can hear. But he doesn’t. He just gives her a cold look and then sweeps away. It’s clear that he hasn’t forgotten, but neither does he plan to pursue the matter further. It both relieves Rey and unsettles her.

So it distresses her when Finn gets out of his audition and admits that Ren is actually a good director.

“I mean, you can’t always tell in an audition, you know,” he says. “But his redirects were so clear.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just the audition,” Rey says grumpily. “He could be a total dick in rehearsal.”

Finn offers a wan smile, and Rey instantly kicks herself.

“I’m just being bitter. I’m glad you had such a good audition.”

His smile becomes genuine. “Thanks, Peanut.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry things...worked out the way they did. I know you were planning on submitting.”

She shrugs. She  _ had _ been planning on submitting for  _ Hamlet _ , but after her disastrous encounter with Ren, that obviously wasn’t a possibility. “It’s okay. It’s not like no one will ever do  _ Hamlet _ again. Anyway, I don’t even like that play. It’s overrated.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, but it’s easier than acknowledging the truth.

.

Finn finds out he’s been cast as Laertes two days before  _ An Ideal Husband _ ’s closing. It’s a Friday, which means he and Rey both have to work the matinee the next day, but they go out after the show and celebrate anyway. 

“I’m so happy for you!” she yells over and over. “Fucking Laertes!”

“I’m really excited,” Finn manages around a gigantic grin. “I didn’t think I was gonna get it, you know?”

“It’s really happening for you,” she tells him. “You’re becoming a real fucking actor!”

“I’ve always been a real fucking actor, bitch,” he laughs. He sobers for just a moment. “It’ll happen for you too, Peanut, you know…”

“Oh, shut up, of course it will,” she says, more to really shut him up than anything. “This is  _ your _ moment, Peanut.” 

They stay out way later than they need to. Finn crashes at Rey’s place, and in the morning, they take the train together, pausing for coffee and muffins at their favorite place. They’re hungover and tired, but for a warm, glorious moment, it feels like the old days. Rey leans her head on his shoulder as the El trundles along downtown, both of them nodding off beneath their sunglasses. 

The warm, glorious moment is shattered when they enter the theater, and with an apologetic smile, Finn heads into the house to stretch onstage. Rey drags her feet all the way to her locker, her hangover somehow getting even worse.

It’s the last Saturday of the run, so both performances are practically sold out. This means that patrons are a giant pain in the ass and put up an even worse fight during late seating. Rey is trying to convince an elderly couple that the seats she’s taking them to are just as good as their usual seats (they aren’t, but no way in hell are they getting to the middle of Row B on the main floor) and the husband is telling Rey just what he thinks about all of this (namely, that it’s unacceptable and he didn’t drive all the way from Elgin to sit in the nosebleeds, and if this is the way he’s going to be treated, he’ll just cancel his subscription) when Kylo fucking Ren walks out of the house. 

Rey feels a flush creep up her collar as Ren takes in the situation. The old man is still going off on Rey, his wife looking alarmingly checked out, and Rey is just gripping her mini-flashlight and waiting for an opening.

And then, to make matters worse, Ren fucking  _ inserts himself _ into the conversation.

“Excuse me,” he says in a voice smooth as velvet. “What seems to be the issue?”

Rey could fucking kill him. Of  _ course _ he’s stepping in and proving he can do her job better than her. 

“This little girl is trying to seat us in these  _ terrible _ seats! We are  _ subscribers _ and we have been sitting on the main floor in Row B for  _ twenty-five years _ , and if seating us up here is this snot-nosed brat’s idea of comparable seating--”

“These are the best available seats,” she says for what feels like the five hundredth time. “The only other seats I can get you are up in the gallery.”

“We are  _ not _ sitting up in the gallery!” the old man howls. “What do you mean, these are the best available seats? What about  _ our _ seats?”

Ren glances at Rey, who takes a deep breath. “Sir, again, we can’t seat you in your usual seats at this time because they are inaccessible. You are more than welcome to move to those seats at intermission--”

“I want the seats I paid for!” he screams. 

“Sir,” Ren says, looking alarmed. “You can’t sit in those seats right now--the show already started--”

“I don’t care!” the old man bawls. “I paid for them! Traffic was terrible! That isn’t my fault! I deserve the seats I paid for!”

“But you came in  _ late _ ,” Ren says, and Rey sees the old man look ready to explode.

“I’m sure the box office would be happy to refund your tickets,” she says quickly. “If you just--”

The old man shoves her into the wall as he hustles past. She winces, more from the rudeness of the gesture than because it actually hurt. 

“Are you okay?” Ren demands, and he actually looks  _ worried _ about her.

It pisses her off so much that she can’t help saying, “I was fine until you stepped in.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline just like they did the first time they met. “I was trying to help.”

“I had it under control.” Her voice is almost shaking. “This is my  _ job _ , I deal with this shit  _ all the time _ , and then you came in and just made it worse. You think I’m stupid and bad at my job, but you have no idea what I do.” 

She knows that she’s in trouble, because he may have tolerated this once but he won’t do it a second time; even if he doesn’t say anything, she’s positive that that old couple is out for her blood downstairs. So she bolts for the gallery and hides up there until Poe radios twenty minutes later and asks her to help him collect ticket stubs. The scanners, as usual, didn’t work during preshow, so the Saints ended up tearing tickets. 

“Am I in trouble?” she grumbles as they empty the bags.

“What? Why?”

Rey winces. “That old couple…”

Poe rolls his eyes. “Oh. No. They got refunded. We already explained that their seats weren’t accessible, I’m sorry they waited until they were in dress to give you shit.”

She debates whether or not to tell him about Ren and then decides that the sooner Poe knows, the better. “Kylo Ren walked in on them yelling at me. I had it under control, but he...stepped in and made things worse. He was trying to help, but, you know how it is when people upstairs butt in.”

Poe does know, probably better than anyone, and he nods wearily. “Yeah. That explains a lot, I guess.”

She hesitates. “I sort of...snapped at him.”

Poe’s lips curl. “Again?”

“I didn’t call him a mansplaining hipster fuck this time.”

“What  _ did _ you say to him?”

She relays the whole exchange. Poe nods thoughtfully. “As your immediate supervisor, I don’t see a problem with it,” he decides. “You did exactly what you were supposed to and I’ll back you up on that.”

“I snapped at him, though.”

“You were frustrated because he almost lost us two subscribers.” Poe shrugs. “Listen, I know him well enough to know that he isn’t going to say anything, because he doesn’t want his mom to find out. And if Leia found out, she would take your side.”

Poe would know. Rey will never understand how he, a front of house supervisor, became so close with the artistic director, but at this moment she’s too grateful to question it. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Poe wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Seriously, you’re fine, don’t worry about Kylo Ren.”

Rey has a feeling that’s easier said than done.

.

She doesn’t hear another word about the old couple or her second run-in with Ren. She gets home late that night and wakes up what feels like far too early for the Sunday matinee. She’s grateful, though, that she’s ushering the performance and not floor managing the closing party, which is never fun. This way she can eat free food and drink free booze and relax for the first time in a long time with her friends.

And sure enough, there is free food and free booze and relaxing times aplenty when she clocks out and heads down to the party. She spends most of the party glued to Finn’s side, both of them leaning heavily into each other as the wine and exhaustion makes standing harder and harder. People keep coming up to congratulate Finn; a few even tell Rey that she did “very well”, which makes Rey and Finn crack up. 

Poe comes over to chat with them, and then Leia joins them, which isn’t unheard of but is always a treat for Rey. Rey likes Leia--everyone does. The daughter of a prominent actor slash director, Leia grew up in theaters and could act with the best of them when she was just a girl. Like many actors, she turned to directing in her adulthood, and after running several successful theatre companies, she accepted the offer as artistic director of the Coruscant. 

Rey hasn’t met many artistic directors, but she’s pretty sure that Leia isn’t like most of them. She’s fun and funny, a hard-ass one moment and hippie-dippie the next. Unlike the rest of leadership, Leia seems to actually care about the employees in her theater. She knows Rey by name and asks about her shows from time to time. They’re talking about Rey’s latest when Leia suddenly seizes a suit and drags none other than Kylo Ren into the conversation.

“Kylo!” she says cheerfully. “I know you know Finn and Poe, but have you met Rey?”

There’s a tense beat where Rey thinks he’s going to tell Leia. 

“Only in passing,” he says quietly. 

Rey exhales in a rush. 

“Rey’s an actor too,” Leia says, clearly thinking she’s being helpful. 

Rey wishes the floor would open up and swallow her. 

“Really.” Ren’s eyes flit to her.

“Why didn’t you submit for  _ Hamlet _ ?” Leia asks, suddenly remembering. “You were going to, weren’t you?” 

Rey’s cheeks flush. “I um...decided it wasn’t for me.” She won’t look at Ren, but she can feel his eyes boring into her. 

“Well, that’s understandable; there are only two women in the whole play. And you’ve got something else, haven’t you?”

Rey stares at the floor, begging it to take her. “Yeah, I’m...doing a show.” It’s a storefront theater where the actors split up a fraction of the profits and usually don’t see a penny of those profits until months after the show has closed--if at all. It’s what every would-be actor in Chicago does when they’re not working as extras on  _ Chicago Med _ or  _ Chicago Fire _ or  _ Chicago P.D. _ or whatever Chicago-based show is casting for crowd scenes. It’s definitely not as good as  _ Hamlet  _ at the Coruscant.

“What’s the show?” Ren asks, and she, Finn, and Poe all stare at him in surprise.

“It’s um. It’s called  _ The Fuckboy Play _ ,” she says with no small degree of humiliation.

She can’t read the expression on Ren’s face. 

Finn thankfully changes the subject, talking about the show they just closed, and this gives Rey the opportunity to slip away under the pretense of getting more wine. To her horror, Ren follows her.

“You didn’t submit for  _ Hamlet _ because of me.” 

She gives a noncommittal jerk of her shoulders. 

He doesn’t say anything until they each have a glass of wine--white for her, red for him. He regards her with serious eyes. “You wanted to be Ophelia.”

Rey snorts. “No. Just because I’m a woman in my early twenties doesn’t mean I want to play the ingenue.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay. So who would you want to play?”

“Horatio,” she says at once. “He’s the best part.”

His eyebrow stays up. “Interesting.”

“Ophelia gets pushed around by chauvinist assholes and then she kills herself because it never stops,” Rey says with far more candor than she should have. “Horatio is one of, like, two people to survive the entire play.” 

“ _ That’s _ what you took away from it? I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t submit.”

She can feel her cheeks flaming. She blames it on the wine. “Yeah, well, whatever.”

“Right. You’re onto bigger and better things,” he says dryly. “Like  _ The Fuckboy Play _ .”

Rey scowls, turning on her heel. He catches her wrist, though, stopping her before she can get away. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but once again, she can’t read the expression on his face. She can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or if he’s just fucking with her again, and the alcohol isn’t doing anything to help her perception. She just shrugs him off and returns to Finn’s side.

She doesn’t see Ren for the rest of the night.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Coruscant goes dark and Rey tries not to have her usual meltdown about making ends meet. She babysits and walks dogs during the day and goes to rehearsal at night. 

Rehearsal keeps her sane. Her castmates are in the same boat as her, twenty-somethings working crappy part time jobs and trying to make ends meet while they do unpaid theatre. She likes hanging out with them; they remind her of her coworkers, who she misses seeing every day.

On the nights she doesn’t have rehearsal, she and Finn hang out at his place, drinking cheap rosé and eating fried rice while watching Netflix. Rehearsals for  _ Hamlet _ are starting soon and he’s nervous. He’s done Shakespeare, everyone has, but he hasn’t done it nearly as much as some of the actors in the cast. Certainly never at the professional level.

“Well, Ren didn’t cast you because of your experience with Shakespeare, he cast you because of your acting,” Rey points out. “And if he’s as good of a director as you say he is, it won’t matter how much experience you have with Shakespeare.”

“We’ll see,” Finn mutters.

She gives him a small kick. “You’ll be great, Peanut. Kylo Ren is a pretentious fuck who probably obsesses over his craft; he wouldn’t cast you if he didn’t think you were perfect. And you are.” Rey believes that. She knows the type, and while they may be hard to swallow, they’re usually irritatingly good at what they do.  _ Hamlet _ will be a good show and Ren will be a good director, but more importantly, Finn will give a good performance. 

“Still.” Finn fidgets. “Will you help me with my lines? Iambic pentameter and all that?”

“Of course I will, Peanut!” 

“And I’ll help you with yours,” he offers.

She rolls her head, waving him off. “Don’t worry about it--I already know  _ Hamlet _ , and that’s kind of the bigger deal here.”

“Your show is important, too,” he insists, but Rey just waves him off again. It isn’t and they both know it, but it’s nice of Finn to pretend. 

She’s only a little surprised when he actually does help her with her lines, because Finn is nothing if not a good friend. 

Her lines are relatively easy to learn; it’s Finn who needs the most help. Scansion has never been his strong point, and despite having less formal training than him, Rey can scan verse in her sleep. Finn chalks it up to her being British. She sits with him for a couple hours here and there and helps him work through his lines and the lines of those around him so that he’s fully grounded in context. Actors aren’t always supposed to memorize lines before rehearsal, and Ren might get mad if he finds out, but there’s also the possibility that he’ll expect everyone to be off book early on. And considering Finn’s difficulty with the language, they figure this can only help him. 

Rehearsals for  _ Hamlet _ begin right before Coruscant’s next show goes up. It’s a touring company that’s come here in the past, doing a postmodern movement piece. They’ll only be here two and a half weeks, and then it’s another month before  _ Hamlet _ goes up. 

Finn is leaving rehearsal as Rey stows her things in her locker, chatting with the handful of ushers in the FOH break room. He smiles and makes polite chitchat with them before wrapping his arms around Rey. “Thanks for all your help, Peanut,” he mumbles into her shoulder. “It’s been helping me so much, you don’t even know.”

“I’m glad.” She squeezes him. “Coming to opening?”

It’s opening night for the visiting company, and though it’s going to be much more lowkey than resident openings, there’s still going to be a party to celebrate and welcome the guests. 

“Just to the party,” he says. “I’m seeing it later this week.”

“Okay, good.”

“You working the event?”

She snorts. “Thank god, no, but I will be taking advantage of that free food and booze.”

Finn laughs. “Okay, good, see you in a few hours.”

The show is definitely...different. The director is kind of a big deal and Rose fangirls more than a little bit when she spies him. Rey only catches glimpses of the piece from the lobby monitor and from the fifteen minutes she goes inside to break out Jessika, but it’s. Well. Weird. People who have studied this art form are probably enjoying it, but Rey, who’s never had real training and has never seen anything like this, doesn’t get it. And she’s too embarrassed to voice that to anyone lest they think she’s stupid. So even as Rose gushes about it, Rey just smiles and hums agreeably.

Finn is already at the opening party when Rey clocks out and heads down. It’s a relatively small gathering, with the usual heels and suits relaxing into flats and sport coats over jeans. There is food and drink aplenty, and Rey, Finn, Rose, and Poe load up small Dixie plates and grab champagne in plastic flutes before congregating in a corner to shoot the shit. Leia passes by once, shaking her head and smiling. 

“You front of house people never talk to other people! You oughta move outside your social circle once in a while!”

Rey doesn’t know how to convey to the artistic director that their isolation isn’t necessarily voluntary because no one else here particularly cares to talk to the “help”. So she just laughs good-naturedly with the others. 

At some point, Rey sees the visiting director, Peavey, not far away from them, talking to Ren. Her stomach flip-flops in an embarrassing sort of way—it’s the first time she’s seen him in three weeks and for some reason, she isn’t prepared for it. She doesn’t know why she needs to be prepared to see Ren, except for the fact that he’s impossible to read and could get her fired but doesn’t and she just doesn’t know what to make of that. 

She only realizes she’s staring when he waves over Finn, who is at his side in a flash. Even though Ren is addressing the director and occasionally glancing at Finn, his eyes keep flickering to Rey and she doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“I’m gonna get more champagne,” she says abruptly. “Anyone want some?”

“I’m good,” Poe says at the same time Rose practically shouts, “ME.”

Rey laughs and heads for the table. Unfortunately, this puts her in close proximity to Finn, Ren, and Peavey. She’s so busy trying to ignore the way Ren’s eyes are boring holes into her that it takes her quite by surprise when Peavey reaches out and grabs her arm. 

“Miss,” he says, looking at her but fixing his eyes somewhere just above hers. “Three more champagnes.” He taps the plastic flute in his hand. 

Rey stares at him. “Sorry?”

“Three.” He taps the flute impatiently. 

Rey exchanges a mystified look with Finn. “Um…”

“You do work here, don’t you?” he asks with an annoyed tone. 

“She’s off the clock,” Ren says, an unreadable expression on his face. 

Something seismic passes across Peavey’s face, and Ren clasps his arm. “I’ll get you a refill. Finn? Anything?”

“Uh, yes please,” Finn says, looking reluctant to be alone with Peavey. 

Rey would feel bad for him if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s now alone with Ren, whose hand hovers just above her back without actually touching her in an uncannily chivalrous gesture. They walk to the table together, Rey wishing desperately she had not offered to get more champagne.

“I’m sorry he spoke to you that way,” Ren says, surprising her. “He shouldn’t have.”

Rey glances at him. “No offense, but you were way ruder when you got on my case for late seating.”

He actually blushes a little. “I’m sorry _ I  _ spoke to you that way,” he amends. “I was definitely a mansplaining hipster fuck.”

Now it’s her turn to blush. “Well. I mean.”

“I was.” He’s almost smiling. “My--Leia talked to me about it.”

“Did you tell her what I said?” she asks, genuinely curious.

He does smile. She realizes it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. “No. I told her I complained to an usher who wasn’t having it. She uh...put me in my place. You both did.”

Rey’s flush deepens. “Oh.”

He grabs two more flutes. “I’m sorry, too, for pissing off that old couple. I was trying to help but...I was being a mansplaining hipster fuck again.”

“Oh my god, can you stop saying that?” she groans. She doesn’t regret calling him that, exactly, but he’s being so...what? Pleasant? That it  _ almost _ makes her regret it. Almost. 

“No, I like it.”

Rey surprises herself by huffing out a laugh. She finds him funny now? 

She takes her and Rose’s champagne back to where her friends are still gathered in their corner. She doesn’t look at Peavey or even look back at Ren, but she feels his eyes on her all the same. 

.

_ Hamlet _ rehearsals almost always let out around the time Rey gets to the theater. This means that she usually spends a few minutes chatting with Finn, but there are a few days when Finn isn’t called. It’s on one of these days that Rey is coming into the theater, has just barely plucked out her earbuds and tucked them into the pocket of her coat when she sees Kylo Ren walking in her direction, his awkward smile a mirror of her own. 

“Hi,” she says uncertainly. 

“Hi.” He looks...nervous. “How’s your, um...fuckboy play going?”

She lets out a surprised snort. “It’s fine,” she says honestly. “How’s... _ Hamlet _ ?”

“Oh.” He pushes his fingers through his hair--which, she can’t help notice, is thick and luxurious. “It’s...good. It’s good.” He shifts his weight. “Finn is...good.” 

She blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s...really good.” What the fuck. Why does she sound like this? “I’m...excited to see it.”

“Yeah, it should be...good.” He winces. “I’ll see you around.” And he takes off, crossing the rest of the lobby in three long strides. 

Rey has no idea what to make of it.

.

“Is Kylo Ren giving you shit again?” Poe asks her later that night. At her confused look, he clarifies, “I saw him stop you in the lobby.”

“Oh. No, we were just...talking.”

Poe raises his eyebrow. “Talking? About what?”

“About  _ Hamlet _ ,” she says, because it’s not  _ un _ true. “He’s...maybe not as awful as I originally believed.”

“Uh-huh,” Poe says, like he doesn’t quite believe her. 

She shrugs. “He apologized for being an asshole. That’s more than most people would do.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” He still looks wary. “You know why he’s here, don’t you?”

She shakes her head.

“Nobody wants to work with him. He’s got a temper--explodes at the drop of a hat. That’s what I hear, anyway,” he’s quick to add. “And there was something about an actor in New York pressing charges.”

“Pressing  _ charges _ ?” 

“They were dropped, but…” He shrugs. “From what I can figure, he’s only here because he needed a successful run and his mom was the only person willing to give him a chance.” 

Rey takes a moment to ponder this information. It both surprises her and doesn’t. It doesn’t surprise her of the mansplaining hipster fuck who got on her case about late seating; it does surprise her of the awkward man who couldn’t seem to hold a conversation a couple hours ago. He’s a white male director, of course he has a temper. And if he was willing to go after a perfect stranger, of course he’d be explosive with people he knows when he’s frustrated. But pressing charges?

“What kind of charges?” she asks quietly. “Like...assault or…?”

“I don’t know. It might not even be true,” he says, and it occurs to Rey that he’s trying not to scare her. “I’m glad he apologized to you.”

Poe’s half-assed concession does little to comfort her. Sure, it’s just a rumor, but rumors like that don’t come from nothing. What  _ happened _ ? 

.

She tells Finn about it next time she sees him. It’s a Monday; he doesn’t have rehearsal and she’s finished her dog walking for the day. They’re at a coffee shop in Ravenswood, people-watching from their table by the window. 

“Poe’s a drama queen,” Finn says, but he looks uneasy. “It could be nothing.”

“Could be,” she agrees. “Or it could be something.” 

They’re quiet for a moment, Rey tracing the rim of her mug. “Has he ever...in rehearsal…?”

“No,” Finn says at once. “He’s really calm. Patient.” He hesitates. “But we are really early in the process--still doing table work, mostly. There’s still time for…”

He doesn’t finish the thought. He doesn’t have to. 

“He’s nice to you,” he says after a long moment. “And he doesn’t...you know...have to be. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

“I want to believe that,” she says. “But...what happened with that actor in New York? What if…” She bites her lip as she reveals the thought that’s been plaguing her for the last few hours. “What if he’s just being nice because this is his mother’s theater? And...because it’s his last chance to save his career?”

Finn considers this supposition. “That’s definitely possible,” he allows. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” 

They end up Googling “Kylo Ren assault”, just in case. Nothing comes up. They try variations of the search, anything to get a result, but there’s nothing. Rey feels more than a little relieved. Obviously this isn’t to say that the rumors don’t have a grain of truth--the past year or so has shown nothing if not how easy it is to cover up the inexcusable behavior of men in power. But they literally can’t find anything, and Rey wants to believe that the rumors Poe heard are just that and nothing more.

.

Rey doesn’t see Kylo Ren again for a while. She doesn’t go to the closing party for the visiting company because she has rehearsal, and then the theater goes dark again and she has no reason to be there. 

She’s at rehearsal one night when Finn texts her; some of the cast is going out for drinks later and he wants her to come. It sounds fun, and it’s not like she has to get up early or anything tomorrow, so she texts back a happy affirmation. As soon as she’s dismissed from rehearsal, she hops on the red line and takes it down to Sheridan. Finn and the others are already there, most of them on a second or third drink, but Rey has no problem catching up. 

She’s tipsy when someone says, “Is that  _ fucking _ Kylo?”

Rey looks up from her drink and sees the unmistakable figure of Kylo Ren lumbering towards them. Her stomach flutters, for some reason, but she barely has time to process it before his eyes find hers across the crowded bar and he smiles. She smiles back, and then wonders what happened to make them go from snapping at each other to smiling. 

The actors all greet Kylo with enthusiasm, offering to buy him a shot and exclaiming that they’re so glad he accepted their invitation. He smiles and makes chitchat for a few minutes and then comes to stand beside Rey, resting a warm hand on her shoulder and leaning down to talk to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says in her ear. 

She doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s painfully aware of his hand still on her shoulder, his hot breath on her ear. She just smiles up at him, and the smile he gives her back makes her stomach flutter again. 

Oh fuck.

Is she  _ attracted _ to him?

Well, it’s not as if he’s  _ unattractive _ . He’s tall and broad-shouldered, muscled beneath his button-down. His hair falls in thick, black waves to his chin; on another man, it might look douchey, but it frames his face pleasantly. She likes his eyes, too, all brown and deep and soulful; she likes his prominent nose, his big ears, and most importantly, those big, plush lips. So, no, he isn’t unattractive. She’s always been acutely aware of that. But her awareness is shifting from a general observation to an active desire. She likes when he touches her and looks at her like that. She wants him to keep doing it. And that’s how she knows she’s fucked.

Kylo and a few of the actors step out for a smoke later, and Rey pulls Finn apart from the others. “I think I have a thing for Kylo,” she tells him.

Finn rolls his eyes. “Girl, I know. You’ve been eyeing him all night.”

“Is it obvious?” she wails. 

“Nah, I only noticed because I know you.” He grins. “He’s been eyeing you, too, you know.”

“Shut up, he has not,” she says, but she knows Finn is right. She and Kylo have been stealing looks all night, lazy, drunk smiles and bitten lips. “Fuck, what do I do?”

“Don’t do anything yet,” he advises. “You’re both kinda drunk. And you don’t know him that well yet. Just play coy for now.”

This is, she decides, good advice. There’s something in the back of her head, something she’s supposed to remember, but she can’t right now. 

When Kylo comes back, he asks Rey what she’s drinking, then gets her another whiskey ginger. Two of the actors have him in a conversation, but he remains beside Rey, his arm brushing hers every so often. She likes the feel of him beside her, finds excuses to remain planted there. Finn keeps giving her knowing looks and she just keeps grinning. 

It’s late when the group starts to disperse. A woman with curly hair gives Rey a drunken hug even though they’ve only just met, loudly professes how happy she is to have met the younger woman. Kylo leans down to Rey’s ear. “Do you need a ride home?”

She smiles at him, eyelids heavy. She could say yes. She could get in his car and tell him where to go, and he could pretend he was going to just let her go, and they could kiss and then fool around and then end up at his place. But Finn had told her to play coy, and she likes that idea. Besides, she  _ is _ a bit drunk, and she wants to be fully sober if and when she and Kylo do...whatever. 

So she shakes her head, still smiling. “No. But thanks.” 

And she lets Finn pull her out of the bar, giggling madly.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, the response to this has been amazing!! Thank you all so much for reading and sharing your thoughts!

_ The Fuckboy Play _ opens to little fanfare. It’s a typical small storefront theater show, with audiences made up entirely of friends and family. Finn promises to be there on opening night (or day, rather, since their show is so small that they have matinee slots only), so Rey isn’t surprised to see him sitting in the small audience space. She is, however, surprised to see Kylo Ren sitting beside him, comically large for the tiny seats. She tries not to look at him, pretends he isn’t there so that she won’t get nervous. 

The play is short enough as it is, but it flies by even quicker than usual. Rey blacks out most of it, which someone once told her is the sign of a good performance. The small space rings with applause ranging from begrudgingly supportive to overwhelmingly enthusiastic. She catches Finn’s eye and laughs when he blows her kisses. Kylo is smiling beside him, grin widening as he sees her looking at him. 

She changes quickly after curtain call, gathering her things and hurrying to the front. Finn envelopes her in a hug almost at once. “You were so good, Peanut.” Quieter, he adds, “He wanted to come. I hope that’s okay.” 

“Of course it’s okay.” 

Kylo gives her a small one-armed hug, and then presents her with a bouquet. She flushes. “This is so nice…” she mutters, embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“Lead actress should always get flowers on opening,” he informs her, still smiling. 

“I was  _ hardly _ the lead actress,” she says, flustered. 

He shrugs. “You should’ve been.” 

Rey doesn’t know what to say to that. 

They end up going to a Mexican restaurant around the corner, noshing on chips and salsa while they drink margaritas. Rey’s knee keeps brushing Kylo’s underneath the table and it sends hot sparks up her thigh, settling in that place between her legs. The looks he’s giving her, the fact that he, an established director, came to her shitty storefront show and brought her  _ flowers _ …

Finn keeps smirking at her, glancing between the two of them. Rey knows that he’s just biding his time and waiting for the perfect excuse to leave them alone together. He and Rey are doing most of the conversational legwork; Kylo seems content to sit back and listen with the occasional interjection. She keeps trying to direct things to him, to make him feel included, but she starts to get the feeling that maybe he’s just a naturally quiet person. Or, she admits when she catches his eyes wandering down her sundress, maybe he just has other things on his mind.

She gets up once to use the bathroom (but mostly to make sure there isn’t any cilantro in her teeth and that she looks fuckable), and when she comes back, Kylo and Finn are talking about  _ Hamlet _ . 

“Most people just don’t get it,” Kylo says, looking more animated than he has during their entire conversation. “They think they do, but they don’t.”

“Yeah,” Finn is saying with an eager look on his face. “Everyone has this...pedantic mindset…” He looks around, as if suddenly remembering Rey is in the room. “Rey has a really cool theory about it, actually.”

“Which one?” she asks, already a little embarrassed.

He nudges her. “The one about it being a comedy, you know.”

“Oh, right.” She turns to Kylo, cheeks pink. “Basically...I just feel like  _ Hamlet _ is a comedy up until Polonius dies.”

Kylo’s eyebrows are raised. “Really?”

“Well, yeah.” She takes another sip of her margarita, hoping he doesn’t decide not to fuck her because of her uneducated opinion. “I mean, he’s such an asshole, and he makes these...ridiculous jokes. Like, the whole play is just so  _ funny _ , Claudius has no idea what he’s doing and Polonius is a fucking moron and then you have Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and the players...like it’s just ridiculous. And then Hamlet stabs Polonius behind the arras and like...everything goes to shit. The play stops being funny after that. I mean, technically,” she amends, “it stops being funny after the Mousetrap, but I think for Hamlet it’s more...it’s more because he’s been denying what he has to do, you know? He’s just kind of...content to fuck around. But then he kills Polonius, a man he’s known probably since infancy, and it stops being funny. Like Hamlet has been so wrapped up in whether or not to kill Claudius and then he ends up  _ actually _ killing someone and it tears him apart.” She bites her lip, knowing immediately she’s said too much.

But Kylo looks contemplative. “It splits his spirit to the bone,” he murmurs, rubbing his face. “Holy shit.” 

He sits there, looks as if he and his margarita are sharing a deep and telepathic conversation. Rey and Finn exchange looks. 

“Is everything...okay?” Finn asks. 

“Hmm? Yes.” Kylo’s eyes come back into focus, like he’s forgotten where he is. He looks around at them. “I’m sorry...I have to go.”

Finn and Rey exchange another look.

“You have to go?” Rey repeats.

He looks at her, mouth working soundlessly, as if he’s trying to speak without knowing what he wants to say. At last, sound comes from his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking pained. “I have...you gave me so much to think about...I have to go home and think.” He stands up abruptly, leaning in to kiss Rey on the cheek. “I’m really sorry,” he says again, and then he’s striding out the door. 

“What the  _ fuck _ was that?” Rey asks in disbelief. Her cheek feels warm and tingly where he kissed her. 

Finn shrugs, reaching over to tip back the rest of Kylo’s margarita. “Directors.”

.

Rey doesn’t hear from Kylo for a while. She doesn’t know what to make of his abrupt exit, or of the way he’d kissed her cheek. She’s also more than a little miffed, because he had been giving her, according to Finn, “bedroom eyes”, and for him to just walk out like that…

Finn reports to her later that week.

“Kylo fucking loved your idea,” he huffs. “So now he’s reworking the entire first half of the show.” 

“ _ What _ ?!” she asks in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Finn is puffing, which she takes to mean he’s walking. “He said he was ‘talking to a colleague’ and had some ideas, and now the whole thing is different. Well, not the  _ whole _ thing,” he amends. “But enough of it.”

Rey adjusts the phone between her shoulder and ear. “Are you...sure?”

“Pretty damn sure. The first half is a comedy now, right up until Polonius dies. Everyone’s pissed as hell, but honestly, Rey, I’ve gotta tell you, I think you and Kylo are onto something.”

She flushes, even though there’s no one around to see her face. “ _ Me _ and Kylo?”

“Yeah,  _ you _ and Kylo. It was your idea and all.” 

She’s quiet for a long moment, turning this over in her head. 

“Rey? What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, then remembers he can’t see her. “Nothing. I’m just...taking it all in. Wish he’d said something to me.”

“I’m sure he’ll make it up to you later,” Finn says far too innocently.

“Finn!”

“What? All I said was I’m sure he’ll make it up to you later...with his dick.”

She groans. “I’m hanging up now, pervert.” 

Even after she hangs up, Finn sends her an eggplant emoji and the one that’s supposed to be sweat but no one ever uses as that. Rey wishes it was as easy as Finn is making it out to be.

Now that it’s been a few days since her last encounter with Kylo, Rey’s head seems to be a bit clearer--less muddled with her physical attraction to him. And the attraction is strong; even days later, she still rubs her legs together at the thought of his smiles, the way his leg kept brushing hers. But before she can give herself any of that, before she can give  _ him _ anything, she has to hear from his own lips what happened with that actor in New York. Even if it’s nothing more than a rumor, she doesn’t think she can be with him until she hears what he has to say. 

.

_ Hamlet _ goes into dress rehearsals around the time  _ The Fuckboy Play _ closes. She has a couple of days to loll around in bed before the final dress, which front of house is always encouraged to attend. It’s a chance to see the show in its entirety and get paid for it, so Rey hops on the train and heads down to the theater. 

She sits with the other ushers in the dress circle, as is their custom. Poe is taking notes, timing an approximation of the late seating holds and how often actors move up and down the aisles. They’re all gigglier than usual, which Rey chalks up to how long it’s been since they all saw each other. It feels absurdly like a long-awaited reunion, like they haven’t seen each other in years instead of a few weeks. 

The giddiness only increases when Finn is onstage. They’re really trying not to be the obnoxious front of house people, but it’s hard to contain their excitement for their friend. Finn is turning into a Coruscant success story, a legend who’s achieved the impossible. How can they not cheer for him?

When Finn isn’t onstage, though, Rey finds her attention wandering to the main floor. Kylo keeps jumping out of his seat and pacing up and down the aisles. He’s a tyrant, constantly calling for a hold and pulling people aside. The dress rehearsal ends up taking hours, but Rey doesn’t mind--she finds it fascinating to watch him work. He’s so focused, a slave to detail. The actors take it in stride, clearly used to this sort of behavior, but the light and sound techs are getting visibly irritated. They’re only quelled by Leia, who’s watching the proceedings with an air of serene interest. 

The play goes exactly as Finn described; it’s misleadingly comedic, has people chuckling at moments where Rey’s never heard chuckles before. Even she gets lost in it, momentarily forgetting that this is one of Western literature’s most famous tragedies. And then Hamlet stabs Polonius and the shift is so  _ palpable _ . The play instantly becomes a tragedy, the humor from before leaving Rey out of sorts. The gravity of Hamlet’s actions finally begins to sink in, a horrifying plummet that almost moves too quickly to process. There’s a sort of breathlessness in the theater as it ends, a general surprise at the turn of events and then surprise at there being surprise. By the time the dress rehearsal ends hours later, Rey feels that rush that she only feels after seeing good theatre. 

Finn texts her not to wait for him; Kylo is giving them notes and it will take a while. Rey walks to the train with Rose and her sister Paige, who works backstage. 

“I’ve never seen  _ Hamlet _ done like that before,” Rose gushes. 

“Neither have I,” Rey agrees.

Paige snorts. “Yeah, you better not have; Ren changed the lighting and sound cues so late in the game, everyone’s pissed. But,” she allows, “This is much more interesting than what he originally asked for.”

The first preview audience think it’s interesting, too. Rey hears them talking after, hears how they’ve never seen anything like it and how the story became so much clearer to them. She wishes she saw Kylo so she could tell him this, but she only ever sees him these days surrounded by people who look just as anxious as he does, the usual flurry of nervous activity that accompanies preview performances. Besides, she thinks bitterly, it’s not like he’s paying attention to her.

She feels a little bad for that uncharitable thought, but she can’t help feeling...neglected. She knows he’s got a lot on his plate, that this is the most stressful week because it’s the last week before the show is out of his hands forever, but he hasn’t said  _ anything _ to her since he ran out on her and Finn a few weeks ago. And she gets it, he’s literally being paid to make this show perfect, but doesn’t their...thing... _ whatever _ it is...mean anything? Would it be so hard to say  _ something _ ? They work in the same place, are both here during all the preview performances, and it’s not like they’re total strangers anymore. He came to her show, he bought her flowers, he  _ kissed her cheek. _ So would a “hey, how are you?” really be so fucking hard? 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

_ Hamlet _ opens on Saturday night. Front of house hates when opening is on a weekend night because it means those attending the opening party feel free to stay as late as they want; meanwhile, the ushers can’t leave until the guests do and most of them have to be back in the morning for the matinee. Rey is dreading it when she walks into the theater Saturday afternoon, can already feel her body aching from the inevitable stress. 

Almost the entire theater staff turns up in nice clothes, fairly brimming over with cheer as they greet donors and the press. They’re the only ones allowed to come on opening nights and their tickets are almost always comps. Everyone who comes to opening is wearing expensive clothes and jewelry, reeking of old women’s perfume. Most of them are pleasant, excited to see the opening performance and Leia, who they pretend is a close friend. Some of them are unpleasant, yelling at the box office staff and the ushers because they need to feel important in a theater full of already important people. 

It’s a relief to get the show started. They hold for a long time because people keep coming in late and they do not, do  _ not _ , want to late seat during the show. Rey watches from the monitors, hears the first few surprised laughs from the audience, listens to them settle in and see it as a comedy. She’s smiling to herself, sitting on a bench and giving herself a rest before the bustle after intermission, when Kylo walks out of the theater. His eyes meet hers and he comes to a halt perilously close to the doors. 

An old woman walks out, crying out in indignation when she walks into Kylo. Poe ferries her away and Kylo sits beside Rey on the bench. She decides to be coolly polite, wants him to know that he’s slighted her. 

“You’re not watching?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “I tried, but I’ve never gotten used to it. Openings. There’s so much...pressure and expectation. And I can’t do anything anymore. It’s officially out of my hands.” 

The audience laughs just then.

“They seem to like it,” she says. 

“Yeah,” he says noncommittally. He drums his fingers on his thigh. “Hey, I’m...sorry for the past few weeks. This show has taken up every ounce of energy.”

She softens, just a little. “I understand.”

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

She tries not to look at him. 

“I’m having the cast over tomorrow night,” he goes on. “These opening parties are always about kissing ass, and I wanted us to have a chance to actually celebrate without all the bullshit.” He hesitates. “I’d really like it if you would come.”

Rey doesn’t just soften, she  _ melts _ . “You sure?” she asks, unable to resist looking at him at last. 

He nods, eyes intent on hers. “Positive.”

She nearly shivers. “Won’t it be weird? If I’m the only one not in the cast?”

“Significant others are welcome,” he says, and Rey’s brain goes into overdrive.  _ Significant others _ .

“Okay,” she finds herself saying quietly. “Um, yeah, I’d love to.”

He smiles. “Good.” He squeezes her knee and stands up, moving to the monitor to watch. Rey’s knee is pulsing with heat that shoots up her legs and pools in her belly. She doesn’t think she’s mistaken the significance of the gesture, his earnestness in inviting her to his get-together. This is, she’s positive, going to be picking up where they left off. She can’t wait to tell Finn.

Intermission passes more or less smoothly—the lines at the bars wind all the way across the lobbies because almost everyone has a complimentary drink card courtesy of the advancement department. On a normal night, all drinks have to be in a plastic cup with a lid so as to prevent spills, but tonight, no one is about to tell the donors that they can’t bring an uncovered glass of Merlot into the theater. This is a relief to Rey, who usually has to monitor cups going inside and doesn’t tonight, but she knows it’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean up after. 

There’s a pregnant pause after they usher everyone inside, a beat where they wait for the house lights to go down and the stage lights to come up. As soon as the show has started, Poe announces over the radio, “It’s time, y’all. Get your asses to the main floor lobby.”

Frankly, Rey finds the next part impressive. With the help of the facilities team, the ushers set up long folding tables and drape tablecloths over them. Poe taught Rey a long time ago how to gather the fabric at the bottom and arrange it so that the extra material looks intentional and tasteful rather than a measuring error that the theater is too cheap to fix. Cee Threepio, the events coordinator, has enlisted the services of a catering company; they come in with tray after tray of hors d’oeuvres and desserts, uncork bottles of wine and champagne and begin pouring them in neatly arranged plastic flutes. A station is set up down an “employees only” corridor where even more food and drink waits to refill the emptied stores.

They finish setting up right before curtain. 

“Battle stations ready, folks,” Poe says over radio, and then they’re all poised at the corners of the lobby, watching attentively as the guests stream out of the house. A veritable roar fills the air as donors and press swarm the tables, talking loudly to be heard. Leadership makes the rounds, warmly greeting guests and acting as if they’ve been part of the creative process. People are pressing to talk to Leia, who is handling it with the poise of a queen; she glides from person to person in a royal blue caftan, offers warm smiles and gentle thanks. She has a gift for this sort of thing, for making people feel special without letting them steamroll over her. Rey has never wanted to be someone more in her entire life.

At long last, the actors begin to trickle out from backstage. Hamlet receives applause before he and the leads are swarmed by eager donors and journalists looking for a quote. Even Finn finds himself trapped by subscribers as he loads up his plate. 

Kylo is among the last to leave the backstage area. It’s clear that not everyone knows who he is at first, but word quickly spreads and he is soon enveloped in a crowd. The attention plainly makes him uncomfortable, but he handles it with aplomb. 

Rey and Rose have been instructed to clear away empty trays when necessary and pick up any trash. They use the opportunity to sneak food, surreptitiously shoving pretzels and chocolate covered strawberries in their mouths when no one is paying attention. 

“I saw that,” Cee warns once, but he doesn’t stop them. 

Rey is clearing away abandoned wine glasses when she sees Kylo talking to two people—a redheaded man with a pinched face and a blonde woman who can only be described as statuesque. If Kylo was uncomfortable before, it’s nothing compared to the look on his face now. The other two are clearly enjoying themselves, dominating the conversation while Kylo makes clipped responses. 

“Rey, move!” Cee hisses at her. “You know better than to remain stationary!”

Regretfully, she clears away the trash and makes her rounds around the room again.

It’s late when the guests finally start to leave. They have to wait until everyone is gone to start clearing things away, but the hour grows later and later and Poe argues with Amilyn Holdo until she agrees that the front of house staff should get some sleep before the show tomorrow. The caterers help them clear away the food and drinks, stripping the tables and bagging the fabric for cleaning. All of the actors and most of the theater administration team has left for the night, so the handful of donors who remain shuffle easily out the door. 

It’s after one a.m. when Rey gets home, forwarding her emailed Lyft receipt to Amilyn so that she can be reimbursed for the ride home (the only good thing about working late is that the theater compensates ushers if they clock out after twelve. It’s a small comfort). She strips off her clothes and passes out on her bed, awakening what feels like minutes later to her alarm. 

After the hustle and bustle of opening, Sunday’s matinee passes in a sleepy haze. Everyone is yawning, sneaking cups of coffee whenever they have a chance. Rey spends her break napping on the couch in the FOH break room. It isn’t until the show is over that she really starts to perk up, remembering that she’s going to Kylo’s place tonight. She tells Finn as they leave the theater together, laughing as he smacks her arm. 

“Girl! You waited until now to tell me this?!”

“I couldn’t exactly tell you at opening, could I?”

He considers her with a sly smile. “Girl, you’re getting some dick tonight.”

She laughs, pink-cheeked. “I hope so.”

They pause the conversation to cross the street and get to the El platform. When Finn speaks, his tone is more subdued. “Have you thought anymore about...the actor pressing charges?”

Truthfully, no. Things have been so weird with Kylo, and after their Google search turned up nothing Rey felt okay pushing it to the back burner. “No. Do you think I should ask him?”

“It’s...a rough conversation to have,” he allows. “But it’s also an important one. Even if it isn’t true, I think his reaction will be telling.”

He has a point there—even if, as Finn says, it isn’t true, Kylo might get offended or freak out, and Rey wouldn’t want to pursue things with him in that case. She needs to feel safe around him if they’re going to do this, and the kind of guy who will get mad if she tries to look out for herself is not someone who will make her feel safe. She’ll ask him. Soon. 

.

Kylo’s apartment is in Wicker Park—not exactly close to Rey and Finn but not a terrible journey, either. They go together, Finn having come over after Rey’s frantic texts to help her pick something to wear. She’s shaved and is wearing perfume; in her purse are a couple condoms. She tries to tell herself that they might not get that far, that she should go in with low expectations, but she’s too excited at the possibility to feel anything but expectant. 

A handful of actors are already there when Rey and Finn arrive, greeting their castmate enthusiastically. A few of them remember Rey from the bar, but truthfully, she’s barely paying attention to them; she’s fully focused on Kylo. He meets her gaze, smiles warmly at her. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks while Horatio regales the others with the story of how he met Steve Harvey. 

“What do you have?”

His lips quirk. “I’ll show you.” 

She follows him into the kitchen, loosely partitioned from the living room. On the island are several bottles of wine. Rey chooses a Riesling and silently vows not to have more than two glasses. 

“I’m glad you came,” Kylo murmurs as he pours her glass. 

Her heart begins to beat wildly. Or rather, wilder—it hasn’t been beating normally for a couple hours now. “Me too.”

He hands her her glass, fingers brushing hers. He’s so close they could kiss…

But then he steps away and Rey mentally chastises herself for being so thirsty. She takes a sip of her wine, following Kylo back out to the living room. 

It’s a very chill gathering, mostly talking. Rey spends most of it with Finn, getting to know the actors and munching on the finger food. The actors are all exhausted from opening weekend and many of them leave before ten. The party picks up after that in a way Rey hadn’t anticipated; the handful that are left pull out a game of Cards Against Humanity and they spend the next hour shock-amusing each other. Kylo ends up next to Rey, leg pressing against hers, and she suddenly wishes the party would just end already. 

It does end at last, couples heading out one after the other. Kylo leans over to whisper in her ear, “Don’t go,” before he gets up to say goodbye to those heading out. She thrills, eager for everyone to leave so she can finally, finally be alone with Kylo. 

Finn is among the last three, giving Rey a sly look as they leave. She’s standing by the couch, heart pounding as Kylo closes and locks the door behind them. He turns around, slowly, and when he sees Rey watching him he crosses the room in three strides. 

“Finally,” he breathes, and then he’s kissing her. His lips are plush, softer than they have any right to be. She’s imagined kissing him so many times, but it’s nothing compared to the real thing. She kisses him back, looping her arms around his waist. It takes little encouragement to deepen the kiss, tongues flicking and curling. 

“Couch,” Kylo manages.

She ends up straddling his hips, moans as he kisses her neck. His hands are loose on her hips, just grazing her bottom, and she desperately wants him to reach under her dress. He’s growing hard beneath her, his stiffening erection pressed against where her underwear is already ridiculously damp.

She’s supposed to do something before this happens but she’s having trouble remembering what. Ask him something. Something she heard. Oh  _ fuck _ .

It takes enormous effort for her to pull herself away from him, to slide sideways off his lap. He’s surprised but lets her go, eyes wide. 

Rey tugs down the hem of her dress. “Before we take this any further, can I ask you something?”   
  
He leans back, looking mildly amused. “Sure.”   
  
She takes a deep breath. “I heard an actor pressed charges while you were in New York. Is that true?”   
  
His face goes very still, but the warm look in his eyes grows cold. “Where did you hear that?”   
  
Her heart begins to pound for entirely different reasons. “Does it matter?”   
  
“Yes.” He sits up. “If someone is spreading lies about me...”   
  
“So it isn’t true?”    
  
He’s quiet. 

Rey scoots back. “It is true.”

“It’s a long and complicated story,” he says, not looking at her. “And I don’t owe you an explanation.”

She sits there in stunned silence. She feels disgusted. Not just with him, either; she feels disgusted with herself. For wanting him so much. For just accepting that lack of news coverage meant lack of an event. For not seeing him as he really is.

“I think you should go home,” he tells her, standing up. “I’ll call you an Uber.”

The disgusted feeling grows. “No, I’ll get it myself.” She bolts to her feet, gathering her purse and her phone. He doesn’t stop her, just stands with his hands in his pockets. She leaves without a backward glance, can feel her hands start to shake. She walks blindly down the street, waits until she’s a couple blocks away to call Finn.

“Peanut?”

“I need to see you,” she says, voice catching on tears.

“What happened?” Finn asks urgently. 

“It’s true, it…” She swipes furiously at her face. “Can I come over?”

“Of course you can, Peanut.”

She takes a Lyft to Finn’s place, forgoing the Line option because she can’t stand the thought of sharing the car with strangers right now. Finn is waiting with a bottle of rosé. His roommates are quiet, probably asleep, so they keep their voices down as Rey relates her misadventure with Kylo. Finn listens with a hard face.

“He didn’t say what happened? What the charges were?”

She shakes her head. “Just that it was a long and complicated story and he didn’t owe me an explanation.”

Finn looks equal parts mad and sympathetic. “Rey...I hate to say it but…it sounds like…”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I know.”

They stay up for a long time, finishing the bottle. Rey feels only marginally better when she finally walks home. She hates that she dressed up for him, that she wore matching underwear and packed condoms in her eagerness to get laid.

Finn sends her a text right as she’s climbing into bed. 

_ Don’t beat yourself up Peanut. I love you. _

Somehow, it only makes the disgusted feeling worse.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo everyone!
> 
> Okay, so this isn't really a big deal, but just as a heads up: I know the next update *should* be on Monday, but I'm traveling that day and I can't promise I'll have the time or energy to log on to ao3. I imagine I'll find time to throw out the next chapter at SOME point on Sunday or Monday but just in case this weekend is as consuming as I'm afraid it'll be, don't worry, I will update eventually!!

Rey spends most of Monday in bed, resting after her physically and emotionally tolling weekend. Her roommates work day jobs so it’s nice to have the apartment to herself. She lies in bed, enjoying the quiet until it becomes too loud, and then she watches hours of  _ Friends _ on her laptop. Finn asks if she wants company, but she says no. 

She wakes up on Tuesday to several texts from Finn in varying states of distress. The first text has a link to an arts magazine, and when she clicks on it, she understands the reason.

_ Something’s Rotten in the City of Chicago, and It’s Coruscant’s “Hamlet”  _

_ By Armitage Hux _

_ Coruscant Theater opened Hamlet this weekend to mixed reactions. Guest director Kylo Ren, son of artistic director Leia Organa and head stage carpenter Han Solo (that, I suppose, explains his credentials), is making his Chicago stage debut with a tried and tired classic. Like most who find themselves directing William Shakespeare’s most-often-performed tragedy, Ren didn’t seem content with directing the piece in its original context, which may have been to his detriment. The play couldn’t seem to make up its mind whether it was a comedy or tragedy (and for those unfamiliar with the play, I’ll give you a hint: it’s supposed to be a tragedy), earning confusion and downright irritation from the audience. _

_ Actors struggle to keep up with the ever-changing mood, something Laertes’ actor, Finn Storm, says is a challenge. “Kylo’s concept sort of changed during the process and we had to rework a lot of stuff. It’s been a workout, I’ll tell you that much.”  _

_ These last minute changes to the production are evident everywhere, from the sparse scenery to the tired “modern Elizabethan” costumes. _

_ In short? Hamlet has been done a thousand times before by better directors than Ren.  _

_ Rating: 1 out of 5 stars _

Rey calls Finn immediately.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, voice still raspy from where she’s just woken up. 

“I didn’t know he was going to quote me!” Finn says anxiously. “He said he was a writer but I didn’t...he didn’t say anything else! He had a lot of questions and I just thought he was curious!”

“He should’ve told you he was quoting you,” she assures him. “It’s not your fault, Finn, you know that.”

“I was drinking, I should’ve used my brain…”

“He should’ve told you who he was and what he was doing,” she says firmly. “Everyone will understand.”

Finn whines. “What if Leia never lets me act at her theater again?”

“I think she has bigger problems, to be honest. Now people are gonna accuse her of nepotism.”

Finn exhales gustily. “This is some bull fucking shit.” 

It is, and Rey doesn’t know what to tell Finn. Shows at Coruscant have gotten unfavorable reviews before, but only a few and never to this level of disparagement. It’s not like they’re going to close the show early or anything, but they’re also probably not going to get sold out houses. 

Rey showers and grabs a change of clothes before heading over to Finn’s. She finds other reviews that are much more partial, reviews that highlight the strengths of the cast and applaud Kylo for the fresh take. This seems to calm down Finn, but he’s still a nervous wreck when they head out for the theater together. She holds his hand the whole way there, reassures him that everything is going to be okay. 

But everything, as they quickly discover, is not okay. 

The theater grapevine is hard at work. Leadership is furious about the article. Apparently they had never really approved of Kylo guest directing at all—how Leia had won them over, Rey doesn’t know. Part of the agreement was that Leia’s relation to Kylo would not be publicized, and this review has done exactly that. They’re furious, too, about Finn’s comment. Finn actually ends up crying on Rey’s couch because the whole thing stresses him out so much. It’s a hard week to get through, harder still seeing how many subscribers are calling the box office to switch their tickets into a later performance date. 

Rey hears from Poe that Kylo isn’t taking it well. Supposedly, he punched a hole in the wall of Leia’s office, and leadership has suggested he not come to the theater for a while. 

The second week is easier. More positive reviews come out. Leadership relaxes. They reach out to Finn and apologize for their frustration, explain that Kylo spoke to them and assured them that Armitage Hux is notorious for obtaining comments through duplicitous means. 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Rey asks him when they take the train to the theater on Thursday.

He nods. “Yeah. I’m surprised Kylo vouched for me, all things considered.”

She’s surprised, too. Finn, however unintentionally, contributed to potentially damaging Kylo’s career. It’s generous, indeed, for him to vouch for the other man. 

Kylo comes to the show that night. If he notices everyone staring at him, he doesn’t show it, just holds up his head and goes about his business. 

Rey gets a sick sort of twist in her stomach every time she sees him. She remembers the way he wouldn’t talk about the charges against him, the rumor that he punched a hole into the wall of Leia’s office. It makes her feel disgusting all over again. 

It’s near the end of the show when Kylo comes up to the dress circle. Rey is aware that she’s alone and that the last time they spoke, they didn’t part on good terms. 

Kylo must be aware, too, because he looks sheepish. “Hi.”

“Hello,” she says coolly. 

He takes a deep breath. “I know you don’t like me right now and I understand. But it would really mean a lot to me if you would let me explain some things to you.”

She chews her lip. “Like what?”

Another deep breath. “The charges that were brought against me and why.”

“I thought you didn’t owe me an explanation.”

He winces. “I...misinterpreted the situation.”

She raises an eyebrow.

He takes a step forward. “Rey...please let me explain it to you. Tonight. After the show.”

Her curiosity outweighs her sense of self-preservation. “...okay.”

He relaxes a little. “Can I give you a ride home?”

It occurs to Rey that that would be potentially dangerous. He could throw her body in the Lake. Or he could just want a private place to talk. She doesn’t have much time to think, though, because applause thunders over the monitors. Kylo, to her great surprise, helps her prop open the doors as soon as the house lights are up, and an unbidden laugh springs to her lips when his eyes widen at the gruffness of the patrons eager to beat the rush. She loses him after that, cleaning up inside the house and putting away her radio and headset as soon as Poe gives her the all-clear. When she leaves the break room, Kylo is waiting just outside the building. With a sigh, she shoots Finn a text, tells him she’s catching a ride home, and pushes open the doors. 

Kylo drives a BMW, because of course he does. The interior is so nice Rey almost feels too grungy for it, but Kylo seems relieved she’s here at all. 

“So?” she asks as he starts to pull out of the parking garage. 

He sighs. “So.” He’s quiet for a moment, and she can see he’s collecting his thoughts. “I studied at the First Order School for Theatre and Dance.”

Rey blinks at both the unexpected beginning to the story and the school he just mentioned. “In London?”

He nods. “That’s the one. I started off as an actor but I ended up falling in love with directing. I liked being able to control the narrative.” He clears his throat. “Anyway. I became a sort of...favorite of the school’s founder. Snoke. He trained me personally. I thought for so long I was receiving special treatment. That he was going to make me famous. And I think he thought so too. But what I didn’t realize was that he was abusing me.” His voice shakes. “I was young when I entered First Order, too naive and too eager for fame to realize that what went on behind closed doors wasn’t okay.”

“Kylo,” she says softly, because out of everything she expected,  _ that _ wasn’t among her imaginings. 

He shakes his head, steadies his voice. “It got worse as I got older. It finally got to the point where I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think. I was suicidal. Snoke had driven a wedge between myself and my family because he convinced me they didn’t understand me. I was too scared to tell my parents. I tried telling...not friends, but classmates who I knew better than others. They told me I was lying for attention.”

“Kylo,” she says again, turning fully to face him. “That’s awful.”

He jerks his shoulders. “Yeah. Well. When I graduated, I thought I’d left it all behind me. But no one was giving me any work. I was some upstart who had never done anything outside school. And then Snoke kept calling me and offering to arrange something for me. I said no at first, but…”

“You didn’t have any other choice,” she realizes.

“My mother offered to let me do a directing internship.” He has a wry smile on his face. “I was too proud to accept. Later she offered to let me assistant direct. That was more than I deserved. I should’ve taken it…” He clears his throat. “Well. Anyway. I was too proud to accept her offer, so...I accepted Snoke’s. Right away, I was getting work with the top directors and theaters in the UK. I had a career. But every time I tried cutting out Snoke, the offers mysteriously disappeared. I’d always known I owed my success to him, but I’d been in denial about just how much. I began to question whether I was even a good director or if I’d been handed these projects because Snoke made it so.

“I decided to test my theory by quietly submitting for a theater in New York. I left Snoke out of my CV and didn’t tell him or tell anyone who would’ve tattled. It was hard, but the theater was interested. I got a guest directing gig. I didn’t tell Snoke, I just. Packed up and left.” He releases a shaky exhale. “It was good. One of the best directing experiences I’ve ever had. It felt so freeing to not have Snoke breathing down my neck.” He lets out another shaky sigh. “And then he showed up anyway.”

“He came to New York?”

He shakes his head. “Not exactly. See, I get this call from the artistic director one day. And he tells me I have to come in and meet with the board. I was so sure Snoke had called them to tell them to fire me. I get there and it turns out one of my actors, a woman, told the artistic director I’d assaulted her.”

Rey sucks in a breath. 

“I was so blindsided by it. I’d never expected that because I’d never done anything like that. I tried explaining that to them, but this was in the wake of #MeToo, when so many women were coming forward about sexual assault and harassment. Bazine levelled assault charges and the board put me on probation.”

“Snoke was behind it,” she guesses quietly.

He nods. “Yeah. He offered to pay off her student loans and make her famous if she did it. And you know, honestly, I don’t even blame her for taking him up on it. I get it.” 

“How did you find out?”

“I guessed,” he says wryly. “And then I called Snoke and told him to do his own dirty work. I’d never been so direct with him before. We screamed at each other for a bit and then I told him that if he didn’t let it drop, I would come forward about the things he’d done to me. When he told me what he always did, that no one would believe me, I told him I’d been recording the entire conversation.” Something almost like a smile crosses his face. “He hung up on me. The next day Bazine dropped the charges and told me about his offer. Apparently he rescinded it as soon as he realized he couldn’t manipulate me anymore.” He shrugs. “The board didn’t let me back, but by that point I’d already called my mother and talked openly to her for the first time in years. She told me to come home...so I did. I slept for  _ days _ . I don’t think I’ve ever slept that well in my life.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, looks much more peaceful than he had when they got into the car. “I thought my directing career was over then, you know? But she offered  _ Hamlet _ to me, told me no one had to know I was her son, that it could be a fresh start. Which, it was. I hadn’t heard from Snoke at all. And then Hux and Phasma came to the opening.”

“Armitage Hux? The wanker who wrote that review?” she asks, putting two and two together. The picture attached to his article had been so professionally done that she was just now realizing he was the redhead with a pinched face Kylo had been talking to. 

Kylo nods. “That’s the one. He and Phasma were the classmates who told me I was lying. They claimed they were ‘in the neighborhood’ and wanted to see the show, but I know Snoke sent them to scope out my latest endeavor. Hux wrote that damning review because he’s still in Snoke’s pocket and it’s the only way he knows to take me down.” He hesitates. “The timing...was bad. When you came over on Sunday and asked about the charges…”

It dawns on her slowly. “You thought Snoke had gotten to me.”

He gives her a helpless look. “Something like that. I’m so sorry, Rey. I didn’t think...I didn’t  _ think _ . Hux and Phasma had gotten me all riled up, and then you brought up Bazine…”

“I understand,” she says, and she does. It all makes sense now. “I understand how it looked to you.”

“Thank you.” And then, softer, “But I should have told you then instead of waiting until now.”

“Kylo--”

“Ben,” he says in a tight voice, keeping his eyes on the road. “My name is Ben. Kylo Ren is the name Snoke gave me. I don’t want to go by that name anymore.”

“Ben,” she says, testing it out on her tongue. It comes easier to her lips, sounds less like an idea and more like a person. It sounds... _ right _ . “What you told me...that’s a lot. I don’t blame you for keeping it quiet.”

“But you deserve to know,” he says. “I  _ want _ you to know.” 

She doesn’t know what to do with that. Something occurs to her. “You said you recorded your conversation with Snoke.”

“I did,” he agrees.

“Ben...you could use that. You could take him down.”

“I could, and I probably will,” he admits. “I’m just not ready yet. Not right now.” His hand reaches for hers. “I know it sounds...I don’t know, weird, but…”

“It’s your decision,” she fills in. “You have to make it on your own terms.”

He nods, thumb stroking her finger. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand the rest of the drive back to her place. She doesn’t mind. She likes being here for him, likes thinking that he  _ wants _ her to be here for him. 

When he pulls up to the curb, he doesn’t let go right away. He looks at Rey, soft and a little sad. “Could we try this again? Me and you?”

“Yes,” she says, squeezing his hand. “Yes, of course.” 

They break hands long enough for them to exchange numbers. Ben promises to text her soon. Just before she gets out of the car, she kisses his cheek. “Don’t keep me waiting, Ben.” 

Her phone buzzes as soon as she heads up the stairs. It’s from Ben.

_ Hi _ .

_ You’re a dork _ , she texts back, biting back a smile. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I know I was worried about not being able to update today, but then my flight kept getting delayed and I guess I live at this airport now so have an update!! 
> 
> A couple things about this chapter: First, some of you may have noticed that the rating has gone up. I will be the first to admit that I don't actually understand the difference between M and E but I wanted to play it safe, so...yeah. 
> 
> Second, this chapter deals with mentions of self-harm and a suicide attempt. The conversation about it happens towards the end of the chapter, right after the mention of Rey's scar. Be kind to yourselves <3

They text a lot over the next few days. She tells him that while Snoke was ferrying him and a few other select students to performances at the Globe and the Old Vic and the Royal National, she was sneaking in to see performances, playing a dumb child who lost her family. She’d surge in as a groundling or find an empty seat at the tip-top of the house, wearing the nicest clothes her foster families could give her. 

On Saturday, he brings her food between shows. They don’t eat together because they don’t want anyone else to know what’s slowly blossoming between them, but Rey can’t stop smiling all through the evening show. 

On Monday, they go to the aquarium. She’s been once before, with Rose and Paige, but it had been crowded and they’d been exhausted by the end of it. It’s quiet today--or as quiet as one of the biggest tourist attractions in Chicago can be. It’s only a few very little children and their mothers or nannies, so Rey can actually look at the exhibits this time. Her favorite is the sea turtle in the Caribbean Reef tank, swimming awkwardly because a chunk of his leg is missing. She likes, too, the manta rays that glide along the tank’s walls, their undersides smiling ridiculously at her.

Ben takes her hand when they get to the lower levels, where the dolphins zip around a tank so big and so blue that Rey could imagine herself in the ocean. They watch them for a long moment, laughing when the dolphins show off for their small audience. They move on after a while, turn a corner to get to the beluga whales. They see a mother and her calf in the distance, turning slowly but making no move to come closer. Rey becomes aware that she and Ben are almost completely alone; they hear people in the exhibits around them, but the corridor in which they’re standing is empty. She leans back against the tank, face tilted up to Ben.

When he kisses her, it isn’t like that time in his apartment. It’s slow, less charged. He twines his fingers with hers, kisses her like he has all the time in the world to explore her lips and her tongue. 

She’s dazed when he finally pulls back, nuzzles her nose with his. “I could kiss you forever,” he murmurs.

“Then why aren’t you?”

It’s a long time later when they finally pull apart. They stumble away from the tank like drunks, wide smiles on swollen lips. 

They end up back at Ben’s place with her on his couch, legs spread as he eats her out. He’s good. Like, really fucking good. His lips and tongue are eager, and when he nudges a long finger inside her, she lets out a low, filthy sound. He looks up at her with hooded eyes, and even though he’s sucking on her clit, Rey can just tell he’s grinning. He adds a second finger, pumping slowly until she’s whining for more. She’s close when he adds an obliging third finger; he only has to curl them once for her to come apart, hips bucking frantically against his face. She’s breathing hard when the whiteness clears from her vision, chest heaving as he presses chaste kisses along her sex and the inside of her thighs. Rey reaches forward to take his hand, fixing her eyes on his as she sucks her come off of his fingers.

“Christ,” he mutters, eyes dark. 

She pats the cushion beside her; as soon as Ben is on it, she slides to the floor, crawling between his legs.

“You don’t have to…” he begins, sucking in a breath as she unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants. 

“Turnabout is fair play,” she murmurs, tugging down his underwear. He juts out, bigger than anyone she’s ever seen in person--but given how tall he is and how massive his hands are, that doesn’t really surprise her. She wraps her fingers around his length and gives a slow, experimental tug. His breath stutters, fingers digging into the sofa cushions. She licks the vein running along the underside of his cock, bringing her tongue up to swirl around his head--and now it’s her turn to grin up at him as she takes him in her mouth. Ben’s head falls back on the sofa, chest heaving as she takes in more and more of him. 

He is too big, ultimately, for her to take entirely, so she wraps her hand around his base and finds a rhythm that works. 

“I’m not...gonna last,” he warns her, eyes struggling to focus. 

“Good,” she hums. “I want you to come.”

He really doesn’t last long, shouting as he finishes in her mouth. She doesn’t like it, normally, and even now she has to grimace against the salty taste of him, but there’s something tentative about him that makes her smile after she’s wiped the last of him from her lips. “Good?”

He nods quickly. “Yes. Fuck.” Then, nervous, “Are you…?”

“Just need something to drink.” 

He springs to his feet, yanking his pants up his hips. “What do you want? I have wine, juice…”

“Juice, but I can get it--”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’ve got it, you just...relax.”

Rey raises her eyebrows but does as she suggests. She can’t remember the last time a guy was this...generous immediately after sex. She tucks her legs underneath her as he lopes into the kitchen; a moment later he comes back bearing a glass of white grape juice. 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking the glass. The juice is sharply sweet, a pleasant counteraction to the residual taste of his cum. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Thank  _ you _ .”

Rey laughs. “Tit for tat and all that.”

Ben squeezes her knee. “I liked tasting you.”

She nearly chokes on her juice. She isn’t a prude, obviously, nor does dirty talk shock her, it’s just. He isn’t saying it to be dirty. He’s stating a fact, like he’s reading the weather report or announcing the score of a Cubs game. He liked tasting her.

“Oh,” she says eloquently. 

He shifts closer. “Can I do it again?”

She sets down her glass, having nearly choked a second time. “You’re  _ asking _ if you can eat me out again?”

“Only if you want,” he begins, but she shakes her head.

“Oh, I want, I very much want,” she assures him, unfurling her legs. 

He presses her back against the armrest and hooks her legs over his shoulders. She’s still slick from earlier (really, not that long ago), and it takes very little for her to start moaning, her fingers tugging on his hair.

“You taste so good,” he croons. “I’m gonna make you come over and over and over until you can’t remember your own name.”

It sounds like something from a cheesy erotic novel, but it still has Rey’s breath sticking to her throat. 

He keeps his promise--one orgasm after another hits her until she’s a boneless heap, and then he asks if he can fuck her with his cock. 

“Yes,” she moans, too far gone to care about playing coy. “Yes, please.”

He carries her to his room, bridal style, and undresses her carefully. She tries to help him, but her limbs are like jelly and his hands are sure and strong. Then he’s taking off his own clothes, holding her gaze as he does. She watches hazily as he reaches into the bedside table for a condom; he rolls it on, stroking his length (god, he really is enormous), and then he’s kneeling over her. “Still want to?” he asks softly.

She nods. “God, yes.”

He braces himself over her, guides his cock to her soaking wet entrance, and then he slips inside and everything goes white.

She becomes aware of her clenched muscles, the breath she’s holding in her chest. He’s holding his breath too, watching her nervously, so she exhales and forces herself to relax. “You’re big,” she says, shier than she means to. 

“Too big?” His eyes are concerned, and it occurs to her that if she says yes, he’ll pull out.

She wraps her legs around his waist, keeping him inside her. “Just right.”

He lets out a shaky breath and then slowly moves inside her. She moans, kissing his lips (he still tastes like her. She decides it’s a good taste) and running her hands up and down the long plane of his back. He’s resting on his elbows, and he reaches one hand to tangle in her hair. 

“Good?” he murmurs.

“Harder.”

He moves faster, with more precision. The noise she makes is absolutely pitiful--she sounds like an animal in heat. “Harder,” she breathes. “Oh, please, harder…”

The hand in her hair clenches as he snaps his hips against hers, driving his cock deeper inside her. His pubic bone strikes her just right, and the faster he moves, the more steady the pressure becomes. She lets out a hoarse cry when she finally clenches around him, fingernails scratching his back as she comes. He drives her into the mattress, fucking her through her orgasm and then through his. He rolls to the side, pulling off the condom with trembling fingers. He ties it and then throws it into a trashcan by the bed before pulling her against him.

“You okay?” he asks.

He’s tender with her in a way she isn’t used to, especially considering how hard he just fucked her. It feels oddly like being taken care of--odder still, she likes it.

She nestles into his side. “Perfect.”

.

She ends up spending the night at his place. She doesn’t mean to, but every time she starts to head out, the journey home looks so much longer and his bed is so much more inviting. And it’s not like Ben is trying very hard to let her go; he can’t stop touching her, fucking her with his cock and his tongue and his fingers, and if she’s too tired for that he just holds her, and that somehow feels just as powerful.

She wakes up in the morning to the unmistakable smell of breakfast food. She borrows a plaid button-down and strolls into the kitchen, where he’s scrambling eggs in one pan and frying bacon in another. There’s orange juice on the island, and Rey pours herself a generous glass. “Morning.”

“Morning.” He dumps eggs and bacon on a plate and hands it to her, reaching over for a kiss. She shoves a slice of bacon in her mouth and shakes her head.

“Uh-uh. Food before anything else. You can’t come between me and food.”

He grins at her. “Fair enough.” 

He doesn’t touch her until she’s finished eating; it’s only when she sets down her plate and wraps her arms around him that he comes to life, kissing her hungrily. He reaches beneath the hem of her borrowed shirt, kneading her bare ass. It feels so good,  _ he _ feels so good. 

“Fuck me,” she whispers. 

He backs her into the kitchen island and then turns her around, planting her hands on the marble surface. “I don’t have a condom in here,” he says even as he grinds his erection against her ass. 

“I don’t care.” She whimpers as he begins stroking her clit. “I have an IUD, you can...you can cum inside me.”

He sucks in a breath, and then he rubs her in earnest, still grinding into her. She’s sure that she’s soaking the front of his boxers, but he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls off his t-shirt and boxers, and then he’s pushing into her and Rey’s arms buckle; she falls onto her forearms, moaning as he pulls back and then thrusts in again. 

“You feel so good,” he tells her, breathless. “So...fucking...good…”

The pace he sets is slow but sharp, making her whine and beg for more. He takes his time building to a more satisfying speed, fucking her so thoroughly that her orgasm brings the sweetest release. He doesn’t stop then, though, keeps that maddening pace until she’s on the edge again, and then he slams his hips into hers the way she’s been hoping he would. They come within seconds of each other, her keening whimpers mingling with his low grunts. She feels his warm cum inside her and presses her face to the marble counter, trying desperately to cool the red flush in her cheeks. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Just. Fuck.” 

Rey thinks that’s the end of it, but then she can feel Ben moving behind her; when his tongue touches her down there, she yelps. He hums reassuringly, hands steadying her hips as he licks her soaking wet sex. She realizes that he’s licking off his cum and hers, and the thought, somehow, has her knees buckling. 

“Ben,” she whines, feeling a third orgasm building.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

She grips the counter for dear life as he licks and sucks, curling his tongue inside her. She comes with a small cry, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“So good,” he murmurs, stroking her hip. 

Rey has a sneaking suspicion that Ben Solo has ruined her for anyone else.

.

On one of the nights she miraculously isn’t scheduled to work, he makes reservations and tells her to wear something nice. He ends up taking her to the restaurant on the 95th floor of the Hancock Center. Rey has to hand it to him--she’s impressed. It’s expensive, and she can only imagine what getting a reservation was like. And she knows why--the view is to die for. The long windows show, in Rey’s opinion, the best view of both the city and the lake; from their table, she can see over the forest of buildings, watches them shorten and peter out until the land grows flat. On the other side of the skyscraper jungle is an endless body of the bluest water Rey’s ever seen. It merges with the sky somewhere far beyond, making the blue look terrifyingly infinite. As the sun begins its slow descent, the sky changes, turns orange and pink and purple. The buildings cast long shadows that soon envelop the city, lights popping on in windows. Soon the city is filled with a new light, one that shines all the brighter because of the night sky and the inky hue of the lake.

She knows she’s being borderline rude, staring out the window so much, but Ben doesn’t seem offended. If anything, he seems amused. 

“I thought you might like it here.”

“I do,” she says softly. “It’s beautiful.”

He’s smiling when she looks over at him. 

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Just. You.”

“What about me?”

He shakes his head again, still smiling. “You’re simultaneously the cutest and most breathtaking woman I’ve ever met.”

She flushes. “Shut up.”

“No.”

She shuts him up when they get back to his place, riding his face until she babbles. She hasn’t been on top of him up until now, and she finds that she likes it; so much so, in fact, that she rides his cock, too. But as much as she likes riding him, some part of her likes it even better when he flips them over and pounds into her from behind. She likes, too, when he tells her how good she is. 

When she’s lying in his arms later, sweat cooling on their skin, he asks about the scar on her thigh. She never tells anyone about it and is rarely in a position where someone would ask, but because it’s Ben and because he told her things he’d never told anyone before, she tells him. 

“One of my foster fathers...he...wasn’t very nice. He didn’t touch me, but he made me feel like I needed him. He isolated me from everyone at school, the neighbors...he convinced me that I was nothing without him. I was so scared that he was right, that no one cared about me or would miss me if I was gone. I sort of...tried to kill myself.”

Ben sucks in a breath. “Rey…”

“It was dumb,” she says sourly. “I called the school guidance counselor because I...I don’t know. I was afraid that my body would rot. I don’t know why that’s what I was afraid of. Maybe I didn’t really want to die and I just thought I did. Anyway. I thought I’d bleed out before the ambulance got there, but they got there just in time.” She takes a deep breath. “They put me in a, um, sort of institution. I was a pretty moderate case, but...it made me realize just how badly my foster father had fucked me up. As soon as I turned eighteen, I left.” 

“Rey,” he says again, holding her tighter. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m okay now,” she tells him. She doesn’t tell him that there’s always going to be that underlying fear that her mind will take over again, that she’ll try to reopen that scar. Somehow, she feels she doesn’t have to. 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Your responses to the last chapter were amazing! I'm sorry I haven't responded to everyone's comments--I'm trying to play catch up, but this has been a busy week! So I apologize if I don't respond--please know that I've read your comments and they've made my day!!
> 
> For those of you who are into A/B/O, I just posted a new fic last night and I hope you read it! Like most of my multi-chapters, it's a complete work that I'll be updating every few days, and also like most of my multi-chapters, sneak peeks at the next chapters are available on ko-fi for my supporters.
> 
> Enjoy!

She wakes up to an empty bed and Ben’s voice coming from the other room. He’s on the phone with someone, and from the sounds of it, the conversation is a long one. Rey gets up and takes a shower, smiling when he joins her a few minutes later. He takes the shampoo bottle from her, squirting the liquid into his hand and lathering her hair. His hands feel amazing working through her hair, and Rey lets out a deep sigh of contentment. 

“So I just got a call from Corellia Playhouse.”

“Corellia?”

He takes a deep breath. “It’s in California. They do a lot of new work.”

“Okay…?”

Another deep breath. “They want me to direct their next show.”

She turns around, beaming. “Ben, that’s  _ great _ !”

“It is,” he agrees, kissing the top of her head. “I guess the artistic director came to see the opening and checked me out.” 

Something occurs to Rey. “You’ll have to leave.”

“Yeah.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

She sighs. “Oh.”

He kisses her. “I want you to come with me.”

Rey freezes. “What?”

She can see his muscles tense. “I know we haven’t been together that long but I think...I think you would like it.”

She pulls back to gape at him. “You want me to go to  _ California _ with you?”

The set of his jaw is defensive. “There are opportunities there...I wouldn’t ask you to pay for anything, I could take care of you…”

She gets out of the shower, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. She wraps a towel around herself, doesn’t look up as he turns off the water and follows her out. 

“Rey…”

“Why do you want me to come?” She does let herself look up then. 

He gives her a confused look. “Because I like you a lot and I want to be with you?”

“Yeah but...California.” She leans against the sink. “Ben, we’ve been seeing each other for like...a couple weeks. And you want me to just pick up and move to a place I’ve never been to? And...what, play house?”

“There’s theatre in California,” he says, jaw clenched as he knots his towel around his waist. “You can still act, you could get away from this shitty job…”

“I like my shitty job,” she says, which is absurd because no, she doesn’t. But most of her friends are from this job, and she gets paid to see theatre, and she’s so tired of picking up and starting over. She’s done it her whole life, with foster homes and then when she ran away from Unkar. She’s safe in Chicago, she has friends here. Roots. And Ben is asking her to pick up and start over again. “Aren’t you coming back to Chicago?”

“I go wherever there’s work.” He frowns. “You’d do it, too, if you were committed to acting.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps. His eyes widen in surprise. She makes a disgusted noise, heading out to his room and rooting around for her clothes. “I’m going home.”

“Rey…”

“I’m not moving to California with you. I barely know you. I have a job and friends here, and I’m not stupid enough to move across the country because of a guy.” She doesn’t look at him as she pulls on her clothes, but his silence is deafening. She pulls on her dress, is surprised when he steps forward to zip her up. 

“Let me drive you home.”

She hesitates. “...okay.”

He dresses quickly and quietly, grabbing his keys before they head down. She expects him to try to convince her again, but the ride to her apartment is silent. 

“Well,” she says when he pulls up to the curb. “Thanks.” She unfastens her seatbelt and starts to get out. 

“Rey?” He’s leaning over the armrest. “Can you...just think about it, please?”

She considers his request. “Okay. I’ll think about it.” But she knows that she isn’t going to change her mind.

.

She does think about it. She asks Finn for his input, is relieved when he tells her she’s making the right decision. She avoids Ben at the theater, doesn’t answer his texts or calls. His offer scares her more than maybe she’s willing to admit, and shutting him out is easier than dealing with it. She hates it, and the temptation to talk to him is overwhelming, but she doesn’t trust herself around him right now.

The casting call goes out for Coruscant’s next show. It’s a new play, one Rey’s never heard of before, but Leia’s directing it and there’s a part for a girl in her age range, so she submits her headshot, resume, and thirty second video. She does this almost every time there’s a casting call, and so far, she’s never heard anything back.

So it surprises her when she gets an email from the casting department, asking her to come in and audition. She chooses a time slot for later that week and then calls Finn to freak out. He helps her memorize the two monologues the casting department sent and helps her pick out an outfit. 

It puts her in a good enough mood that she finally texts Ben back, sure that whatever he says, whatever she might feel, she can be strong. He responds at once, asks if she’ll spend the night at his place.

_ On one condition: we don’t talk about California _ .

There’s a long pause before the three bubbles appear.

_ Okay _ .

He drives her to his place after the show that night. She doesn’t tell him about her audition, doesn’t get much chance to say anything because as soon as he closes his apartment door behind her he fucks her against it. There’s always been a little bit of possessiveness when he’s made love to her, but tonight it’s so pronounced that Rey can only cling to him and whimper as he claims her. 

He carries her to his bed after, cages her body with his and kisses the sweat from her skin. “I missed you,” he murmurs.

“I missed you too,” she says truthfully. 

He breathes into her sternum. “I’m sorry I was so…”

“Let’s not talk about it,” she says, pulling his face to hers. 

They don’t talk about much of anything that night.

.

The audition is nerve-wracking. Dozens of young women who are prettier and more confident than Rey sit or stand in the holding area. There are even more older women and a handful of older men. Rey smiles whenever their eyes meet, makes casual conversation with the ones who look as nervous as she does. When her name is called, she feels the urge to throw up. Instead, she follows the casting intern into the rehearsal room. It’s just the casting director, D’Acy, and her assistant, Snap Wexley. Rey gives her two monologues, takes a couple redirects, and leaves the audition with an assurance that if she’s made the callbacks, they’ll be in touch soon.

She meets Finn for a late lunch a few blocks away. Her armpits are damp and her hands shake, but Finn’s questions and his own anecdotes soon have her laughing and calm.

“What are you gonna do when  _ Hamlet _ ’s over?” she asks. There are no roles for young men in the upcoming show, so Finn didn’t even bother submitting.

He shrugs. “I’ve been submitting headshots and resumes and going to auditions. I’m just hoping something works out.” He’s more nervous than he’s letting on, but Rey knows her best friend too well. He’s worried about the future, worried that he won’t ever do anything better than this. That he’ll have to go back to working front of house for minimum wage. 

“Something will work out,” she assures him. 

“Yeah, I know.”

. 

Rey gets a phone call the following week. It’s a Chicago number but she doesn’t recognize it, so she lets it go to voicemail. When she checks it later, she immediately wishes she had answered it.

_ “Hi Rey, this is Snap Wexley at Coruscant. We were really impressed with your audition and we’d love to see you for callbacks. I’m sending you an email with available slots; we’ll ask you to bring those monologues you memorized. Please let me know if you have any questions.” _

She calls Finn to freak out. 

“I’m so proud of you, Peanut!” he hollers. “You’re doing it!”

“Even if I don’t get it,” she says breathlessly. “I got this far.”

“You sure did, Peanut.”

.

Even though she sees Ben a couple times before the callback, she doesn’t tell him about it. She isn’t really sure why, except for a vague inclination that it will broach the subject of California again. He has, thankfully, not brought it up again, but that may or may not be because she keeps occupying his mouth with things that aren’t talking. 

There are fewer people in the holding area for the callback, which calms her nerves just a little. They jitter all over again, however, when she’s led into the rehearsal room and sees Leia sitting with D’Acy and Snap. 

“Hello, Rey,” Leia says warmly. 

“Hi.” Rey smiles, wishing it wasn’t so warm in here. 

“It’s nice to finally see you in here!” Leia looks at D’Acy. “Well?”

“Thanks for coming, Rey,” D’Acy says, glancing at a printout of Rey’s resume. “We’re just gonna have you do a couple redirects and cold reads, okay?”

“Sure.”

It goes by quickly. Leia gives her redirects that are fun but challenging. 

“Pretend you’re being chased by a rabid monkey.”

“Do it like you have a really uncomfortable wedgie but you can’t fix it.”

“Pretend you’re Sarah Huckabee Sanders defending Trump’s latest idiocy.”

Rey has a good time, and when she leaves the rehearsal room, it’s with a genuine smile.

She isn’t scheduled for work that night, so she goes over to Ben’s, putting her rush of adrenaline to good use. 

After, when they’re curled up on his couch watching Netflix, he asks, “Why were you so dressed up?”

She flushes. “Well...I was at an audition.”

He tenses. “An audition?”

“Yeah.” She glances at him. “For the show your mom is doing... _ Ahch-To _ .”

Ben sits up, rigid. “You auditioned for  _ Ahch-To _ ?”

“Yeah?” She sits up too, tugging self-consciously on the shirt she’d borrowed from him. “Why?”

He looks hurt. “If you get that part, you can’t come to California.”

She looks down at her lap. “Ben…”

“No.” He stands up, pacing. “You said you would think about it.”

“And I did,” she tells him. “But it’s just...it’s not for me, Ben.”

His face is wretched, like a little boy trying not to cry. “When were you planning on telling me?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I was kind of hoping you’d drop it.”

He sits on the couch again, still looking wretched. “I’ve been waiting for you. I could’ve left this week but I thought...I was  _ hoping _ …”

“Ben.” She swallows, hates how much she suddenly feels like crying. “You knew I didn’t want to do this.”

“You told me you would think about it,” he accuses, a flash of anger spasming across his face. 

“I said that to appease you,” she admits. “I was never going to change my mind.”

He looks vaguely as if he’s been slapped. It makes her feel awful. 

“Please don’t look at me like that,” she whispers, staring at her lap again. 

But he keeps looking at her.

She reaches for his knee. “Ben…”

He slaps her hands away, and that makes the tears spill. She shrinks back, curled around her hands. Ben looks immediately contrite, reaches for her, but she shrinks back even more.

“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “I didn’t realize...I…” He swallows. “I think you should go.”

He doesn’t offer to drive her, which Rey somehow knows means he’s more upset than he’s ever been. She begins to cry in earnest, feeling like a baby but unable to stop. “Ben,  _ please _ …”

“I’ll get you a Lyft,” he murmurs, standing up. “I just don’t think I should be around you right now.”

She hates the way she feels. She dresses numbly, tries to stop crying, but the tears have a mind of their own. Ben summons a Lyft, doesn’t look at her until it’s time for her to leave. 

“Ben…”

He kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.” And then he’s holding open the door, telling her with no uncertainty that she needs to leave. 

Rey has never felt more wretched in her life. 

.

Ben doesn’t answer her texts or calls. She doesn’t see him around the theater, either, which she discovers a few days later is because he’s no longer in Chicago.

“He left really suddenly,” Finn tells her. “I think it even took Leia by surprise.”

“He went to California,” Rey says miserably. “Now that he doesn’t have anything here holding him back…”

Finn hugs her. “You did the right thing, Peanut.”

But Rey, who has never quite gotten used to people walking out on her, isn’t sure of that at all.

.

She gets another call from a Chicago number, and this time, she answers it. It’s D’Acy, asking if Rey could come in for a second callback. 

She’s happy she made it this far--it makes the ache in her chest that much duller. She tells Finn, and after the show that night they head back to his place for a celebratory glass of wine.

The second callback should be nerve-wracking, but it’s surprisingly intimate. D’Acy advised Rey to wear clothes she could move in, so she comes in leggings and a t-shirt. D’Acy and Leia are in the room again, and this time there is a man Rey doesn’t know. He’s older, face hidden behind unkempt hair and a grizzly beard. His eyes glint with something like curiosity and mischief. 

“Rey,” Leia begins, “This is Luke. You two will be reading together.”

Rey has read the play, and she knows that if she’s being considered for the part of Kira, Luke must be being considered for the part of Pilot. Kira and Pilot are the two main characters--she an orphan who has never known her family and desperately wants to, and he a crotchety old hermit who doesn’t want to talk to anyone. 

Leia has them read a scene from the play and then do an exercise where Luke pretends to have something in his pocket that Rey desperately wants but isn’t allowed to ask for with words. They spend what could be minutes or could be hours on that exercise, Rey imploring him with her body language and Luke stubbornly refusing. When Rey is flushed, adrenaline racing, Leia says, “Good. Now let’s read that scene again.”

It comes so naturally this time, Kira’s frustration with Pilot and his adamant withdrawal from her pleas. Rey’s chest is heaving by the time Leia says, “I think we’ve got what we need. Thank you so much for coming in, Rey.”

Rey thanks them all, especially Luke, who was such a giving scene partner that it felt like an actual dialogue instead of two people reading prewritten lines. She leaves the callback feeling better about herself than she has since Ben left. 

She only has an hour before her shift starts, so she hangs out in the break room, texting Finn and watching videos on her phone. The ushers start to trickle in, most of them excitedly asking her, “So how was it?!” 

“It was really good,” she tells them honestly. “I read with this guy who was such a giving scene partner, and Leia was so fun. It felt more like playing than auditioning.”

“Who did you read with?” Poe asks.

She shrugs. “His name is Luke? That’s all I know.”

Poe huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Rey...you read with Luke Skywalker.”

The name is familiar, but not enough to jog Rey’s memory. She tilts her head. “Who…?”

“Luke Skywalker,” Poe says again. “He’s Leia’s brother. He used to run this super experimental conservatory out west. He was retired, but Leia convinced him to come out of it for this.”

Rey blanches. “So he wasn’t auditioning.”

“No,” Poe laughs. “He’s had the part basically since they decided to do it.”

“That’s a good sign, though!” Rose pipes up. “If you read with him, they must want to see your chemistry, which means they’re seriously considering you.”

Finn had said something similar, and a blossom of hope unfurls in Rey’s chest. Dozens of other women have probably also read with Luke, but only one of them is going to get the role, and there’s a chance, however small, that it could be Rey.

.

Leia personally finds Rey a couple days later to offer her the role. It’s just after she’s gotten to the theater, still a little breathless from walking from the train station and ducking tourists. She starts crying, which embarrasses her, but Leia hugs her goodnaturedly and assures her that she’s excited to work with her, that Rey’s auditions were incredible and her chemistry with Luke was perfect. Rehearsals will begin in a couple weeks. There’s more, but Rey’s heart is pounding in her ears and Leia tells her there will be an email with all this information anyway. 

Rey can barely focus on her job that night and Poe doesn’t blame her. She’s flying high, can hardly believe her luck. Only a handful of Coruscant ushers have ever gotten to the stage, and she’s one of them. Roughly a year of working at this theater and throwing herself into every production she can, and it’s all finally paid off. 

She goes out with Finn, Poe, Rose, and BeeBee to celebrate after the show. They buy champagne and toast her. She smiles so much that her face hurts and drinks until she feels like she’s floating on a million bubbles. When she falls into her bed, drunk off giddiness and champagne, she reaches for her phone and types out a text to Ben.

_ I know you hate me but I just wanted to tell you that I got the part. I’m happy and I wanted you to know that _ . 

She falls asleep immediately after hitting send. When she wakes up, there is a text flashing across her screen. 

_ Congratulations.  _

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there, y'all!
> 
> I do wanna warn you that there are mentions of wanting to self harm and suicide ideation in this chapter--nothing graphic, but just so's you can brace yourself if need be.

The next couple weeks drag by at an agonizing pace. Rey decides to keep working front of house right up until rehearsals begin, both because of the money and because she knows she’ll go stir-crazy if she does nothing but memorize lines for two weeks. Her fellow ushers are all excited for her, joking that they hope she remembers them when she becomes a big star.

Rey has to fill out paperwork with HR and leadership. She’s making so much money she very nearly has a heart attack when she sees the dollar amount. Everyone is nice and accommodating in a way they never were when she was just an usher. It both annoys her and makes her feel extremely smug.  _ You all thought I was nothing, and now I’m co-starring in one of your biggest shows of the season. Kiss my ass _ .

The reality of it sinks in slowly. She’s going to  _ costar  _ in one of the  _ biggest shows of the season _ . The thought excites and terrifies her.

Finn is her rock through those two weeks. She knows from watching him go through the same thing what the transition is like, but she still welcomes all of his advice. He helps her with her lines, gives his opinion into her character and the characters around her.

_ Ahch-To _ is about a girl named Kira who comes to a small Scottish seaside village in search of her father, who she believes to be a reclusive American called only “Pilot”. The play is an introspective piece about family lost and found. It hits home for Rey, who’d been taken away from neglectful, abusive parents and kicked around the foster system until she was old enough to find a home and a family of her choosing. Leia has no way of knowing Rey’s life story, so the casting feels more than a little poetic—like Rey’s first professional role was meant to be the role she’d played her entire life. 

She wishes, desperately, that she could tell Ben. She doesn’t know why, since he made it pretty clear he’s upset with her, but she calls him anyway. He doesn’t pick up, and she doesn’t expect him to, but she does leave a voicemail telling him about her revelation. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she says as she wraps it up. “I just. Want to feel like you’re still part of my life, I guess.”

.

It’s Rey’s last day working front of house when Finn wraps her in a warm hug. “I just got some big news, Peanut.”

“Tell me,” she says, excited for him. 

He pulls back to smile at her. “I got offered a part with Alabama Shakes.”

“Finn, that’s  _ great _ !” she gushes. Then it hits her. “So you’re...going to  _ Alabama _ ?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking almost guilty. “Believe me, I wasn’t expecting it either, but…”

“You have to go wherever there’s work,” she says, realizing even as she says it that it’s what Ben told her. 

He nods. “Yeah. It’s just for the summer, but…”

“I’m happy for you,” she says, feeling horribly selfish for how much she’s going to miss him. “Seriously, Peanut, that’s awesome. You’re like a big deal now.”

“It still hasn’t sunk in yet,” he admits. “I basically have to head down there as soon as  _ Hamlet _ closes.”

“Jesus.”

The guilty look returns. “I...I’ll be there for the entire run of  _ Ahch-To _ .”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, what the fuck ever, you’re working! It’s okay.”

“I know, but I’m legit distraught that I won’t be able to see you make your Coruscant debut,” he sighs. “Make someone record the entire thing.”

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Rey says in her customer service voice. “I need you to put the cell phone away.”

Finn picks up the bit, holding up an imaginary phone. “Oh, it’s okay,” he says in his best imitation of a suburban mom. “I’m recording this for my friend.”

They laugh at the memory of the children’s show they worked last summer, when they had to tell off a thousand moms just like that one for taking pictures and videos and snapchatting the entire show. 

“You never have to tell anyone to put their cell phone away again,” he says with a smile.

Rey shakes her head. “You don’t know that. I mean, this could be it, you know?”

“Or it could be the beginning of something big,” Finn corrects. “You’re talented, Peanut, and it’s about time someone recognized it.”

She hugs him again. “I’ll miss you so much, Peanut.”

“You’ll manage without me.” He squeezes her. “But yeah, I’ll miss you too.”

“Call me all the time.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t find a new best friend.”

“No one could ever replace you.”

This, Rey thinks, must be what growing up feels like. 

.

Rey quickly finds out that she is the youngest person involved in the production. She knew she would be the youngest cast member, but it doesn’t really hit her that she’s the youngest person  _ period _ until she walks into the rehearsal room for the first read-through. Four long folding tables have been pulled together in a square, several of the seats occupied by people with laptops and notebooks. Leia waves her over and indicates for her to take the seat next to her. Luke is on Leia’s other side, and they both greet Rey warmly.

They don’t look anything like siblings. Rey knows from doing her research that they’re twins, but they don’t even look the same age. How funny, she thinks before they get started.

They kick off with a brief show-and-tell from the production team; the costume department shows sketches and inspiration boards, and then Leia’s husband, Han, talks a little bit about the set. Rey takes it all in excitedly, can’t wait to see the finished product. They take a brief break, during which much of the production team leaves, and then they move into the read-through. 

Rey has read and skimmed over this play a hundred times, but it feels fresh and new as she reads it with the full cast. It’s just a read-through and Leia discourages them from making character choices just yet, but already the story takes shape. Rey is brimming over with excitement when they let out, eager to get started.

The excitement doesn’t last.

Rehearsals are strenuous. They last all day every day, and even though Rey isn’t always called, her off-time is put to use in other ways. She has so many  _ lines _ , and memorizing them in addition to doing character work makes her feel overwhelmed. When she is at rehearsal, she’s either doing exercises with Luke that leave her feeling drained or she’s doing extensive table work. Luke and Leia have a lot of ideas and aren’t always receptive to her own, and it quickly becomes apparent to Rey that this is  _ their _ show. The two twins may not look anything alike, but their minds are as one, and it leaves Rey feeling out of the loop. 

It doesn’t help that on the rare occasion she gets exposed to the other cast members, they barely talk to her. She didn’t think anything of the age gap at first, but now it’s all she can focus on because they won’t stop talking down to her. Their disapproval at her age and inexperience becomes obvious, and if Leia isn’t around, they don’t hesitate to become flat-out rude. 

Luke, while not flat-out rude to Rey, is difficult to be around. Not because he actively does anything—it’s more that he  _ doesn’t _ do anything. He barely talks to Rey, never communicates ideas he wants to try with her. She’s reached out to him a few times through text and voicemail to ask if he’d like to get coffee and talk about their characters, but he never responds. 

The worst part of it all, though, is that she can’t even talk to Finn.  _ Hamlet _ closes and he moves just two days later. Rey helps him pack in the handful of hours she can spare, and he’s in such a good mood that she can’t bear to tell him that she’s miserable. Besides, she thinks, she’s being unreasonable—he’s about to start an exciting new chapter of his life and she needs to be there for him, not load him down with her problems.

Saying goodbye to him is hard. Finn was her first friend in Chicago and the only person she’s ever felt like calling family. He got her the job at Coruscant, he’s been there for her through thick and thin. She can’t stop crying when she hugs him goodbye, tells him she’s being silly even while she knows her heart is breaking. 

“It’s just a few months,” he reassures her, but Rey can’t be sure. She’s afraid Finn’s talent will get him snatched up by another company that isn’t in Chicago. Maybe he won’t come back for years. 

“Don’t worry,” she sniffles. “I won’t even notice you’re gone.” 

Life becomes even harder after he leaves. They plan weekly Skype dates, but he has to cancel almost all of them because he’s so busy all the time. Rey tells him she understands. She does, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

She starts to dread going to rehearsals, and when she’s there, she can’t wait for them to be over. Some days she gets out of rehearsal and chats with the ushers, desperate for friendship; other days she hustles out of the building as fast as possible so no one sees her crying.

Finn finally notices that something is off. “What’s going on, Peanut?” he asks, brow furrowing when he sees her holding back tears. 

“Nothing,” she lies.

“Rey.”

So she tells him how isolated she feels, how she feels like she isn’t doing anything right, how she feels like she’s drowning and no one will throw her a life preserver. 

“Tell the stage manager,” he urges. 

But Rey doesn’t want to tell the stage manager, because he’ll just tell Leia, who will think Rey isn’t strong enough to handle the show. Everyone already seems disappointed in her, like she isn’t what they thought she could be, and admitting this weakness is sure to get her booted. 

She knows that she’s getting bad again, and she knows that she  _ should _ see a therapist. But part of her is afraid that the therapist will tell her to quit the show or try to institutionalize her again—and anyway, she should be able to handle this. She’s doing what she loves, isn’t she? She’s living her dream. She’s just having a hard time adjusting is all. If she can’t handle this, she can’t handle acting. 

This is what she tells herself when she drinks a bottle of wine for dinner. 

“I can do this, I can do this,” she whispers. 

And then one day, something snaps, and she realizes she can’t do this. 

Rehearsal goes on longer than it’s supposed to, which makes the cast and crew irritated and stresses Rey out. They’re reblocking a scene for what feels like the thousandth time when Alcida-Auka snaps at Rey, “This would go a lot faster if you’d use your brain.”

It isn’t even the worst thing Alcida-Auka has ever said to Rey, but it’s a combination of her tone of voice and the glares of the rest of the cast and Leia’s serene indifference that makes her break. She mumbles an apology and tries even harder to do what she’s asked. They don’t even get it right; the stage manager finally has to remind Leia that they’re close to violating AEA compliance standards before she gives up, dismissing them with evident disappointment. 

Rey heads down to the river walk, tears springing free. She wishes they’d wait, but they’ve been held back too long already. She walks beside the river, feels calmer near the water, but she’s still crying and still aches horribly in her chest. She calls Finn, who doesn’t pick up. In rehearsal, she thinks, or out with his new friends. She saw pictures of them on Facebook, Finn looking happier than she’s ever seen him. She’s too lonely to just leave it, too afraid of what she’ll do if left on her own, so she calls the only other person she thinks could understand.

It goes to voicemail, which doesn’t  _ really _ surprise her, considering he always lets her calls go to voicemail. She leaves one anyway, willing her voice not to shake.

“Hi,” she says quietly. “It’s me. Um, I know you...I know you don’t want to talk to me anymore, but…I really need you right now.” A sob breaks free. “I’m in a really bad place, and I...I feel like you’re the only person who would understand.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t...I know I shouldn’t be calling you...I’m scared. And I. Ugh.” She wipes her nose. “I would just really like to hear your voice again.”

She hangs up, feeling too wretched to be embarrassed at her needy plea. He’s probably going to ignore it. He probably deletes her voicemails before he even listens to them. She made him feel awful, he doesn’t owe her his time or attention. 

She sits on a bench, drawing her knees to her chest and burying her face between them. Maybe she’ll jump into the river. Even if it doesn’t kill her, maybe it’ll drown the hot, terrified feeling inside her. 

Her phone buzzes insistently, and when she glances at it, she’s surprised to see that Ben is FaceTiming her. She plugs in her headphones, loath to let anyone else hear him, and accepts the call.

He’s sitting in his car, his face pixelated by the crappy wifi connection, but his voice is soft. “Jesus.”

“Hi,” she squeaks. She knows she looks awful, red-faced and crying, eyes and nose streaming, and she hopes her face is just as pixelated to him.

“Rey.” His voice is impossibly gentle. “What’s going on?”

She shakes her head, unsure if she can speak for a moment. He’s patient, waits until she can form words again. She tells him, haltingly, about the show, how isolating it is, how she can never do anything right, how she’s a disappointment to everyone and how she’s afraid of what she might do. 

“I’ve never felt so alone,” she tells him.

“You’re not alone,” he says, quietly but firmly. 

She shakes her head, throat thick with tears.

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “I wish I was there with you.”

“I wish I was there with  _ you _ ,” she says miserably. “I should’ve gone with you to California.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You still could.”

Her breath hitches. “The show…”

“You’re afraid you’re going to hurt yourself,” he says bluntly. “ _ I’m _ afraid you’re going to hurt yourself. This show is doing this to you. I can’t...I don’t want you to be alone.” His voice catches. “Come to me. Let me take care of you.”

It’s a tempting offer. Ben won’t let her be alone. Ben won’t make her feel crushingly inadequate. Ben won’t let her hurt herself. 

She takes a deep, shaky breath. “How soon…?”

“Now,” he says eagerly. “As soon as you can.”

She puts her head in her hand. “I have to pack…”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he tells her. “Rey, when I say I’ll take care of you, I mean it.”

She starts to cry all over again. How can anyone care about her so much? How can  _ Ben _ , the man she rejected, whose heart she broke, still want her so badly? 

“Let me...figure this out,” she says, standing up. “But I’ll come. Tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he tells her. “I’ll book the flight, if you want.”

“I can get it. Just text me the airport.”

He does as soon as they hang up. She takes the train home and books a flight while she throws clothes into a duffel. She doesn’t bring toiletries, not wanting to pay to check her bag, knowing Ben will get her anything she needs. 

She takes a Lyft to O’Hare, texts Ben the flight details. 

_ I’m glad you’re coming _ , he tells her.  _ Everything’s going to be okay.  _

She actually believes it.

It isn’t until she’s sitting on the plane that she remembers there’s a rehearsal tomorrow. She emails Leia and the stage manager. 

_ An emergency came up and I had to leave town. Not sure how long I’ll be gone.  _

And then she shuts off her phone.

.

Ben is waiting in baggage claim when she lands. Their eyes meet while she’s coming down the escalator, and then he snakes easily through the crowd. She runs to him like something out of a movie, bag swinging wildly. He catches her in his arms, lifts her off her feet with the force of his embrace.

“You’re here,” he murmurs into her hair. 

She squeezes him, breathes him in. Tears spring to her eyes.

“Hey.” He tilts her face up to his. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” she says honestly. “I’m just so happy to see you.”

He kisses her, and for the first time in weeks, the hollowness in her chest is filled with a happiness she forgot herself capable of feeling. She kisses him back, would do it forever if tourists with industrial-size suitcases weren’t banging into them.

He holds her hand and doesn’t let go until they get into his car, and even then he holds it again as soon as they’re buckled in. 

“Do you want to talk?” he asks her.

She shakes her head. “No. I want to hear  _ you _ talk.”

He tells her about the theater where he works, the show he’s directing. It’s a small theater and has a lot of quirks. He smiles when he talks about it and it makes Rey happy to think he’s found a place he likes. The show is weird, but the playwright has been making changes as they go along, open to Ben’s suggestions. The cast is great, give him so much to think about. 

He keeps pausing, looking at Rey like he’s afraid he’s talking too much, but she keeps smiling and squeezing his hand. She likes hearing him talk about his new life, wants to know everything. They have so much to catch up on. 

He pauses in the middle of a story about his neighbor and asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Pretty much always.”

He takes her to an In-N-Out, orders a burger and fries and a shake. She wolfs it all down in no time, moans because she hasn’t eaten anything in twelve hours and didn’t realize how hungry she was until now.

Ben is renting a small bungalow in what looks like the middle of nowhere. There are other, similar houses dotted along the street, but it looks like they were all sort of accidentally plopped there. 

“Welcome home,” he says when they walk inside, and Rey’s heart tightens just a little. 

He draws her a bath and pours her a glass of wine while she soaks. He washes and shampoos her hair, and while his fingers comb through her hair, nails scratching her scalp, she unwinds enough to tell him about  _ Ahch-To _ . All the things she had trouble vocalizing a few hours ago spill freely from her lips now. She talks until she feels drained of words, warm and comfortable and floating in the tub. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says again, kissing her damp scalp. “I’m glad you left.”

“Me too,” she murmurs, barely able to keep her eyes open. 

He dries her off with a towel and gives her a t-shirt to sleep in. She sinks into his bed, registers his arms wrapping around her before she falls asleep. 

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left, y'all!!!
> 
> A LOT happens in this chapter; we're tying up most of the story, and then next chapter will be a short-ish epilogue. Next chapter will also have to wait until next week instead of the usual five days--my mom will be in town this weekend and I don't think I'll be able to get on my computer at all, so thanks in advance for your patience!

She sleeps for hours. 

She’s dimly aware that the sun is shining, that an old-fashioned air conditioner has kicked in somewhere. She’s aware, too, of Ben getting out of bed and getting back in a few times. She doesn’t let any of it permeate the veil of sleep, just rolls over and falls deeper into unconsciousness. 

When she wakes, it’s to an empty room. She lies in bed for a moment, listens to the rattle of the air conditioning. Is Ben still here? Did he leave for work? 

She sits up and reaches for where her phone is charging on the bedside table--sweet of him. It’s turned off, which she knows Ben must have done because she literally only ever turns off her phone if she’s seeing a show. After turning her phone back on, she understands why he did it. She has dozens of missed calls from the stage manager, Leia, and Finn, as well as several voicemails she doesn’t even touch. She even has texts and facebook messages from her friends. Apparently Leia’s asked them what’s going on, and they range from worried (Rose) to sternly telling her to call Leia (Poe). Rey doesn’t answer any of them. 

She uses the bathroom and borrows some mouthwash before padding out to the kitchen. She was hoping to find a snack and is delighted to instead find Ben. He’s sitting at a small kitchen table, hunched over a laptop, but he straightens up and smiles when he sees her. “Morning.” He glances at the microwave. “Or afternoon, rather.” He closes his laptop and makes room for her to perch on his lap.

“Don’t you have work?”

“I cancelled rehearsal today.”

Her mouth falls open. “Ben!”

“I told them something came up. It’s fine, they’ll just have a long weekend,” he says indifferently. “I wasn’t just gonna leave you here.”

“You have a  _ job _ ,” she mutters. 

“They can handle one day without me.” 

She hums, looking around his kitchen. “I can’t believe I’m here.” 

“I can’t either.” He kisses her shoulder. “I’m so glad, Rey. You deserve better than whatever fucked up game my mother and Luke were putting you through.”

“Game?”

He hesitates. “Luke...didn’t tell you about his big experiment, did he?”

She wracks her brain. “No?”

Ben shifts. “I guess...the first thing you should know about my family is that my grandfather was one of the first seriously method actors. People thought it was just this cute thing he did at first, but he got really intense about it until it completely took over his life. My grandmother divorced him because she became so afraid of him. And Luke and my mom…” He sighs. “My mom had a bad experience with him when she was a teenager and he was preparing for a role. She and Luke didn’t see him a lot growing up, but my mom went to visit him and...I don’t know what happened, she still won’t talk about it, but it shook her up really badly. Luke didn’t have that experience; he thought the whole method acting thing was cool. 

“They had this...idea. They wanted to take method acting even farther and try method  _ directing _ .”

“How?” she asks, curious. 

“You know how in film, sometimes a director will lie to an actor or intentionally hide a costume or set until they roll the cameras to elicit a genuine reaction?”

She has a sinking feeling about this. “Oh.”

He nods. “It has its merits, but…”

“But it can’t sustain an entire production,” she fills in. “And onstage, where everything has to be rehearsed and performed multiple times…”

He nods again. “Exactly. It’s an interesting concept in theory, but it doesn’t seem feasible in practice. Luke and Anakin kept trying to find it, though. They formed a conservatory dedicated to method acting and experimented on their students constantly, manipulating circumstances to elicit genuine reactions. Instead of using substitutions and endowments, actors would just have to remember the circumstances created for them. It never worked, though, but even after Anakin died, Luke kept trying.” He hesitates. “It...took its toll. One student had a mental breakdown. Luke came under a lot of fire for it; people felt like the manipulation of circumstances was just plain manipulation. Luke shut down the conservatory and retired. Or so we thought.”

“And you think,” Rey says quietly, “that rehearsals for  _ Ahch-To _ have been part of his latest experiment.” 

Somehow, that makes her feel even worse. She was upset and hurt that Luke and Leia could be ignorant of the way they made her feel, but if they were  _ trying _ to make her feel that way…

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice breaking a little. “I knew he was coming back for  _ Ahch-To _ , but I thought he was just doing my mom a favor or trying to do something reputable so that people would forget about the experiment. I think what I’m having the hardest time believing is that my mom  _ agreed _ to it. She hated my grandfather and his work, I don’t see why she would let Luke use her theater and her play for it.” He looks up, softening when he sees Rey crying. “Hey…”

“I was so scared of my own brain,” she says, voice shaking. “Because they were  _ experimenting _ on me. I thought I was too weak to handle it and it turns out they were trying to break me…” 

He pulls her closer to him. She buries her face in his shoulder and sobs. She feels used, and she feels stupid, too, for not realizing she was being used. Any thought of going back to Coruscant is gone now—she’ll be damned if they use her again. 

Ben holds her for a long time. His patience is endless and her heart surges for it. 

When she calms down, he makes her an omelet and a screwdriver. Food and a drink make her feel better, more like a person.

They go to Target, where he stocks up on things she needs for her stay—however long it’s going to be. Neither of them talk about it, but Rey can’t help wondering if Ben still wants her to live with him permanently. She can’t help wondering if she wants to, too. 

He asks if she wants to go out to eat, if she wants to go for a drive, but she tells him she wants to go home. He obliges. When they’re back at home and in the middle of unloading the bags, she unbuckles his belt. 

“Rey…”

She sinks to her knees, looking up at him with a hungry expression. “I missed you,” she says, coaxing him from his pants. 

He braces his hands on the counter behind him, sucks in a breath as she strokes him. “You don’t have to…”

“You’ve been taking care of me—let me take care of you,” she murmurs, licking his hardening length. 

“You don’t have to,” he says again, hissing, but she doesn’t stop.

“I want to.” She wraps her hand around his base and sucks on his cock, taking him in as deep as she can before she gags. He doesn’t last long, comes apart with a surprised shout. She’s barely had time to lick him clean before he hauls her up to her feet and throws her over his shoulder. 

“Ben!”

“I’m returning the favor.”

No sooner has he dropped her onto the bed than he’s yanking at her shorts and underwear, tossing them to the side and crawling onto the bed. He buries his face between her legs, kissing her thighs, the fuzz of hair between them, the pink lips of her sex. 

“So good,” he murmurs, sending a shiver up her spine. “Are you still my good girl, Rey?”

“Yes,” she whines. It’s been  _ so long _ since he touched her there, since he called her good. She lasts only a little longer than he had, her cunt seizing around his fingers as she thrashes against the bed. He rubs her legs soothingly, peppers her belly with kisses, and then he ducks back down to make her come again.

.

They spend  _ hours _ just lazing in his bed. It’s a Friday, which means he has the weekend ahead of him to show her around. That’s what he says, anyway, but they both know they’ll probably spend most of the weekend without any clothes on. 

Leia keeps calling and Rey keeps leaving her on silent. Her phone rings and rings until the battery dies, and then Rey leaves it dead. 

.

Ben almost doesn’t go to work on Monday, but Rey insists that she’ll be okay while he’s gone. Secretly, she is afraid that she’ll panic when he’s gone, that sleep and food and Netflix won’t be enough to distract her, but it isn’t fair of her to keep him from his job. 

“I’ll have my cell on me,” he promises. “I’ll call at lunch, and if you want me to come home for any reason I will—“

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him. “Go to work.”

She goes back to bed after he leaves and naps until she can’t anymore. She puts on Netflix and makes breakfast, spends far too much time prepping her meal and then eating it and then cleaning it up. Ben calls around noon and then again at three, asking with soft urgency how she’s doing. 

“I’m fine,” she tells him, and is relieved to find that she isn’t lying. “I’m bored and I miss you but I’m fine.”

She makes it through the day without having a breakdown or crying. She pounces on Ben when he comes home, rides him on the floor right next to the front door. 

“Hi,” she says after he comes, kissing the sweat from his forehead.

He lets out a breathless laugh. “Hi.”

“I’m hungry.”

He laughs again. “Okay.”

They make chicken and rice for dinner, she chopping vegetables while he cooks the rice. He tells her about his day over a drink (beer for him, wine for her), and at some point over dinner their hands meet across the table and just stay there. It’s so perfectly, wonderfully domestic. She hopes it lasts forever. 

.

She wakes up to say goodbye to him the next morning, but he urges her to stay in bed. 

“I want to leave you like this,” he tells her. “Sleeping and safe in my bed.”

“Is this some masculine pride thing?” she yawns into the pillows. 

“Probably.”

She does stay in bed though, content to lie nestled in the sheets that smell like him. He kisses her head before he leaves, does it like he’s done it a thousand times before, and right before she falls back asleep she thinks,  _ I’m fucking in love with this man _ .

.

She wakes a couple hours later to her phone buzzing. She doesn’t think, just reaches for it and assumes it’s Ben.

“Hello?” she says groggily. 

“Rey!”

Her stomach clenches, and suddenly she is  _ very _ awake. 

“Leia.”

“Thank god. Is everything okay? Are  _ you _ okay?”

It takes Rey a moment to gather her bearings and collect enough calm to answer her question. “I think you know the answer to that.”

There’s a pause. “What?”

She sits up in bed, can feel her hands shaking. “I know about the experiment. About the...method-directing.” She can hear a sharp inhalation on the other end but keeps going. “I thought you wanted an actor, not a test subject. And I’m…” Her voice wavers. “I’m so mad that you tore me down because you thought I wasn’t enough. Because you thought the only way you’d get a good performance is if I was miserable. I’m not coming back and I want you to stop calling me.” She ends the call, swiping furiously at her eyes. She can feel her breath coming shorter, darkness threatening to close in on her. She feels alone, and even though it’s selfish, she decides to call Ben.

He answers on the third ring, sounds a little breathless. “Hey, is everything okay?”

She tries to form words and can’t quite do it. 

“Rey?” He sounds worried. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she manages. 

“I’m coming home.”

“No,” she protests. “Your show…”

“You’re more important.”

“ _ No _ .” She takes a deep breath. “I’m okay, I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He sighs. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she lies.

“If you’re not doing okay…”

“I’m okay,” she says again. “I just freaked out a little but now I’m talking to you and I feel stupid.”

“Are you  _ sure _ ?”

“Yes,” she lies again. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

He sighs. “Okay. Call me again if you need me.”

“I will,” she says. And then, before she can stop herself, she says, “I love you.”

He’s quiet and she’s mortified, so she hangs up. She takes a shower and then watches a sitcom on Netflix so that she can cringe at someone else’s life. 

.

Ben comes home with a bouquet for her. 

“They’re nice,” she mumbles as he roots around for a vase. “Thank you.” She thinks she said something similar when he brought her flowers after her show.

He sets the flowers in a vase and then wraps his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

She hesitates. She doesn’t  _ want _ to tell him that she spoke to his mother because she has a feeling he’ll be upset—but she doesn’t want to lie to him, either. “I spoke to your mom,” she says, voice muffled by his shirt.

He tenses. “What?”

“I...thought it was you calling. But it was her.” She looks up at him. “I didn’t mean to. But then it all just...came out.”

He relaxes, but only a little. “What did she say?”

“Um...not much. I didn’t really give her a chance,” she admits. “But she hasn’t tried to call since.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of her head. “Now let me ask you another question.”

“Okay,” she says, already wary.

“Did you mean what you said? Right before you hung up?”

She flushes. Did she mean it? That she loves him? “Yes.”

He kisses her, drawing her even tighter against him. “I love you,” he says, nuzzling her nose. “I didn’t tell you until now because I was afraid of scaring you off.”

She sucks in a breath. “How long…?”

“Honestly? Pretty much since you called me a mansplaining hipster fuck.”

She laughs at that, a full-out belly laugh that bounces off the walls. Ben lifts her onto the counter, tugging down her shorts. “I love you,” he tells her, kissing his way up her bare legs. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

.

When Ben leaves in the morning, he kisses her head again. 

“Love you,” he whispers. 

“Love you too,” she mumbles, but she’s smiling.

She spends a sleepy morning in bed. She feels freer, somehow, now that she’s told off Leia. It’s freeing, too, to not see dozens of missed call and voicemail notifications. 

It’s mid-afternoon when someone knocks on the door. Rey pauses the TV, knowing that whoever is at the front door will have heard the TV and there’s no point pretending she isn’t here. She wishes Ben had mentioned if this was a safe neighborhood or not, if she should open the door or call the police. The knock comes again, and with a sigh, she opens the door.

She instantly wishes she hadn’t, because standing on the front porch are Luke and Leia.

“Hello, Rey,” Luke says as if she’s been expecting them. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Rey feels like crying again. She left, so why can’t they leave her alone? “How did you know I was here?”

“We put two and two together,” Leia says gently. “Can we come inside? I’m sweating like a hooker in church.”

Rey finds it hard to believe that the ever-unruffled Leia Organa is capable of sweating, but she doesn’t love the idea of having this conversation on the porch, so she leads them inside to the kitchen. Leia helps herself to a glass of water. 

“So,” she says after she’s taken a gulp. “We owe you an explanation.”

“It was for the art?” Rey snipes.

Luke shakes his head. “It wasn’t an experiment.”

Rey frowns. “What?”

“It wasn’t an experiment. Or at least, it wasn’t  _ my _ experiment,” Luke corrects. “Someone was messing with you, but it wasn’t me.” 

Rey feels a flicker of uncertainty. “Okay…”

Luke shifts in his seat. “I don’t know how much Ben has told you, but I assume enough to know why my career essentially ended.”

“Yes,” Rey says quietly. 

He nods. “When Leia told me about this show, I got excited. I hadn’t acted under another director in so long, and I had never worked with my sister. It seemed like an opportunity to start afresh. I was genuinely excited to work with you. I asked the stage manager for your contact information so we could talk about the character. He gave me your phone number. You never answered my calls or texts.”

Rey makes an indignant sound. “I never got any! And you never answered mine!”

He holds up a placating hand. “I’m getting there. I assumed, at first, that perhaps you were uncomfortable with an older man calling you outside of work, especially in the wake of recent events. I felt ashamed that I had acted without thinking and I decided to keep my distance. You seemed stressed and upset at rehearsal and I was too cowardly to approach you about it, or to bring it up with Leia. I went instead to the stage manager, who told me that you had expressed discomfort at my behavior and suggested I remain as distant as possible.”

Rey’s mouth falls open, because she  _ definitely _ doesn’t remember this conversation, but Luke continues. 

“Ben has probably told you about my student. I recognized the signs of deteriorating mental health. I went to the stage manager again and begged him to help. He said Leia was aware of the situation and they were doing what they could. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified that once again, I had driven someone to a mental breakdown. I felt awful after you left. And then Leia called me yesterday to scream at me for experimenting on her actor.”

Leia nods. “Rey, I just want you to know...I had no idea what was going on. At all. I’d mentioned to the stage manager that you seemed out of it, and he told me you were dealing with some personal things and didn’t want to talk about it. When I spoke to you yesterday...I was so angry. I couldn’t imagine Luke going behind my back like that. It didn’t take us long to compare stories and notice a common denominator.”

“The stage manager,” Rey says quietly. “Mitaka.”

Leia nods again. “Bingo. Apparently he’d given you a number that wasn’t Luke’s and gave Luke a number that wasn’t yours and concocted stories. And then he told the rest of the cast that you and Luke were very into method acting and would appreciate it if they treated you the way their characters treat yours.”

“So Alcida-Auka doesn’t actually hate me,” Rey murmurs. “She was just trying to help me...get into the zone.”

Leia sighs. “Yes.”

“But  _ why _ ? Why would he do any of this?” Rey wants to know. 

Luke leans back in his seat. “That’s where it gets a bit more complicated, I’m afraid. See, Mitaka had done his research. He knew about my former student, and he knew that you had been institutionalized when you were a teenager.”

Rey’s cheeks flame. “Oh.”

“He knew that if he manipulated the circumstances, you would, at the very least, feel isolated and upset,” he continues gently. “At most, you’d have a full-out mental breakdown. And he knew that if you were in emotional distress, I would blame myself.”

“But  _ why _ ?” she asks again, because it’s just not adding up. “I don’t understand why he has it out for us.”

“It isn’t  _ us _ he has it out for,” Luke says quietly. “It isn’t even him who has it out for anyone. It’s the person he works for.” 

Rey has been leaning against the counter; now, she sinks into a chair. “Snoke.”

Luke nods. “The very same.”

“He can’t come after Ben anymore,” Leia murmurs. “So he’s coming after the people Ben cares about.”

Rey rubs her forehead. “How did he know...about  _ me _ ?”

“We all knew you were seeing each other,” Leia says with a grim smile. “I know you two thought you were being subtle, but the entire cast...what’s the word?  _ Shipped _ you two. Mitaka must have overheard and reported back to Snoke.”

“And Mitaka...you’re  _ sure _ he’s working for Snoke?” Rey asks, though she can’t really imagine how he wouldn’t be at this point.

“I thought it was suspicious that a First Order stage manager applied to Coruscant right after we announced Ben would be guest directing,” the older woman says in a flat tone. “Dumb kid broke down when I confronted him last night, admitted to the whole thing. I could’ve strangled him.”

It’s all so much to take in. Luke’s coldness, the rest of the cast’s disappointment, the isolation and endless feeling of  _ not being enough _ ...it was all Snoke. A man she doesn’t know and never intends to meet, pulling the strings of her life and working her into isolation all because of her relationship with Ben. She realizes with a chill that her mental breakdown, her fear of hurting herself, her refusal to seek help because of the last time she trusted an authority figure, was all planned by this man. He knew what she would do—he, who had never met her, had only heard of her from someone else’s lips. She feels helpless, has started to hyperventilate when Leia reaches over and takes her hand.

“I am so sorry this happened to you,” the older woman says, and there’s a deep sadness in her eyes. “I should have seen what was happening. I should have taken better care of you.”

Rey starts crying. Leia stands up and wraps her arms around the younger woman, who bawls into her embrace the way she thinks children must cry to their mothers. She’s crying so hard that she doesn’t hear Ben come home until he’s standing in the kitchen and asking, “What the fuck is going on here?”

They all three explain it to him, Rey holding his hand for her sake and his. She feels him tense until he almost shatters, feels his anger and despair at realizing that no matter how far he gets from Snoke, he will never be truly free. 

“I’ll kill him,” he says hoarsely. 

Rey shakes her head. “Give a newspaper your story—tell them what he’s done to you. What he’s doing to those around you. It’ll destroy his career. It’ll destroy  _ him _ .” 

Ben lets out a shaky blast of air. “I will. I definitely will.” He looks at her with sad eyes, and for a moment, he looks just like Leia. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I’m okay.”

“We’ll be here every step of the way,” Leia promises them. Both of them. “Whatever you need…”

He nods. “Thanks, Mom.”

There’s a long pause as they contemplate what still has to be done.

“So I guess,” Luke says at last, “all that remains is this.” He looks at Rey. “Do you still want to do the show?”

She blinks.  _ Ahch-To _ feels as faraway as its geographical location, so distant as to be unreal. “The show?”

“Must go on,” Leia murmurs. “Rey, I...I understand completely if you don’t want to come back. Your experience has been...traumatic. But I can’t tell you how much it would mean if you would give it a second chance.”

Rey feels Ben’s hand tighten on hers. “You’re seriously asking her that right now?”

“I’m asking  _ her _ ,” Leia says pointedly. “Not you. Rey?”

She thinks about it. The show only has bitter memories for her, but the source of the bitterness has been removed. At least, it appears to have been. It  _ is _ her chance to be in a professional show in a lead role, a chance she may never get again. But going back means leaving Ben, and that...that will be hard. 

“Can I think about it?”

“Of  _ course _ ,” Leia says emphatically. “Please give it serious thought.”

“I will.”

.

Hours later, after Ben takes them to a Mexican restaurant where Leia drinks too much, after he drives Luke and Leia to the Hampton Inn where they’re staying, after Ben and Rey have gone to bed without having sex, she reaches out in the dark and grasps his hand. 

“Ben?”

“Yeah.”

She bites her lip. “I want to do the show.” She’s been thinking about it all evening. She loves Ben, but she’s stagnant here. She has a second chance at starting her career, her  _ life _ ...and if Ben loves her the way he says he does, he’ll understand that. He’ll find a way to be part of her life anyway. 

He sighs. “I had a feeling you would say that.” 

She rolls onto her side. “It isn’t that I want to leave you—“

“You should do it.” 

She waits for more, but he doesn’t offer it. “You think so?”

He rolls onto his side, his face scant inches from hers. “Yes. This is a really good opportunity. My mom and Luke will take care of you.” He sighs a little. “I’m gonna miss you like hell, though.”

“Me too.” Her voice cracks. “I love you so much, Ben.”

His lips quirk. “I know.” 

.

Ben drives them to the airport. Rey sits in the front; she offered it to Luke and Leia, but they insisted he should have it. She holds Ben’s hand almost the whole ride. 

When they reach departures, Ben helps them unload their suitcases and then hugs his mother and Luke. When he reaches Rey, Luke and Leia step to the side to afford the couple some measure of privacy. They hold each other for a long moment, her fingers bunching the material of his shirt and his hands trembling ever so slightly.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.” She tilts her face up to his, receives one last kiss, and with a sigh they pull apart. Rey takes her duffel, heavier now than it was when she came here, and follows Luke and Leia into the airport and back to Chicago, Coruscant, and  _ Ahch-To. _

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We...are...here!!
> 
> This fic has been such a journey. Truthfully, I didn't expect anyone to read or care about it, and it means the world to me that all of you did. Thank you <3

She’s putting on her makeup when Finn FaceTimes her.

“PEANUT!!!!!!” he shouts. “BREAK A LEG TONIGHT!!!!!!”

“Thanks, Peanut!” she says, beaming at the camera. He’s in his room, and she hopes for his roommate’s sake that he’s alone. 

“You nervous?”

“Very, but I think it’ll be okay.”

“It’ll be  _ amazing _ ,” he tells her. “Seriously.”

She flushes, though it’s hard to see under the stage makeup. “We’ll see.”

“Uh-huh.” He shifts, the camera momentarily blurring as he gets more comfortable. “So...did you hear about Snoke?”

Rey pauses. “No? What about him?”

“He, uh, got booted from First Order,” Finn says. “I don’t think the board cared about what he was doing so much as what the rest of the world thought, but...he’s gone and it doesn’t look like he’s coming back.”

Rey wonders if Ben knows this. He probably does, and he probably didn’t want to say anything she was in opening night mode. “Well. Good.”

“Yeah. Ever since Ben’s article and those other students coming forward…” Finn shakes his head. 

“It’s been a lot,” she says, and it has. She and Ben talked every day while they were apart, but they talked  _ constantly _ in the days surrounding the article going public. He’s dealing with it--he’s seeing a therapist and he’s recently taken up kickboxing. It’s helping. “But I’m glad people are listening.”

“Yeah. Me too.” 

They chat while Rey finishes makeup and gets into costume. He likes Alabama Shakes but misses Chicago.

“You think you’ll come back up here?” she asks him.

“Chicago’s my home, girl, and you’re my family--of course I’ll come back. Besides,” he adds in a lighter tone, “there aren’t any snakes in Chicago.”

“There are rats, though.”

“Rats aren’t poisonous.”

Someone knocks on Rey’s door. 

“I should go,” she says.

Finn blows her a big kiss. “Break a leg, Peanut.”

“Thanks, Peanut.” She’s still smiling when she opens the door to find Alcida-Auka. “Hi! What are those?”

“For you,” the older woman says, handing her the enormous bouquet. 

“For me?” Rey looks at the card and beams. 

_ Rey— _

_ I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. Break a leg, sweetheart. _

_ Love,  _

_ Ben _

“That dork.”

“You haven’t stopped smiling since he came back,” Alcida-Auka says cheerfully. She’s a cheerful woman, something Rey was both surprised and pleased to learn. “Pilot may not be Kira’s father, but I have a feeling you’re going to be related to Luke pretty soon.”

“Stop,” Rey says, but she’s laughing. Korr Sella, their new stage manager, calls ten to places; the two women hug, wish each other a happy opening, and then head to the stage. Luke is sitting in his usual chair, looking serene as ever. Rey hugs him, too.

“You ready?” 

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Good—neither am I.”

She laughs again. “You’ll be fine. You improvised last night and it was great.”

He grimaces. “Please don’t remind me. Or my sister, for that matter, she’s never going to let me hear the end of it.”

Korr calls five to places.

“Break a leg, kid.”

“You too.”

Rey wanders over to her entrance, hears the rumble of hundreds of donors, theatre critics, and somewhere, her boyfriend, waiting for the show to begin. The house lights dim, the audience falls silent, and a cool, crisp voice asks patrons to turn off their cell phones, pagers, and wristwatch alarms. Then the sound cue hits, the sound of wind and crashing waves, and Kira enters, stage left. 

The show passes in a blur. Sometimes Rey finds herself in the middle of a scene with Luke, words pouring from her lips; other times she finds herself backstage while bagpipes blast through the speakers. She comes to when she hears applause thundering through the house, smiles when she realizes  _ they liked it, it’s over, we did it _ . 

She and Luke are the last two to take their bows. A cheer rises up for the two stars, old and new, and Rey sees a wave of people leap to their feet. She joins hands with Luke and Alcida-Auka, bows once again, and then scampers backstage. 

Everyone congratulates her, and with a laugh, Rey realizes she’s crying. Alcida-Auka holds her in a tight embrace, releasing her only when Leia comes backstage to hug her herself.

“Oh god, it was good,” the older woman gushes. “People were crying. Ransolm Casterfo wept like a goddamn baby. I heard some old broad say this was the first show she hasn’t slept through in five years.”

Rey laughs again. “Probably the bagpipes kept her awake.”

“Probably.” Leia gives her one final squeeze and then releases her. “Now get out of that costume and go schmooze.” 

Rey does, taking a quick shower in her dressing room before changing into a violet cocktail dress. She can practically hear the light jazz Cee Threepio plays at every opening party, knows Poe and Rose and BeeBee are in for a long night. 

“Damn, I was hoping to get you naked.”

She turns around, beaming at Ben. “What are you doing back here?”

“Like I said, I was hoping to get you naked.” He kisses her, hand caressing the exposed skin of her back. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, staring at the floor, but he tips up her chin so that she has to look at him.

“You were  _ amazing _ ,” he says again. “You’re gonna get swarmed out there.”

She smiles. “Zip me up?”

“No.” He nuzzles her neck. “I want you all to myself for a few minutes.”

“You’ll have me after the party.”

“After the party you’ll be drunk and tired.”

He’s got a point.

“Come on,” he murmurs in her ear. “You can’t tell me you never wanted to fuck in your dressing room.”

She flushes. “Fine.” She pushes him onto the couch, hiking her dress up around her hips. “But make it snappy—those chocolate-covered strawberries go fast.”

Ben laughs. “I love you.”

“Yeah.” She beams. “I know.” 

  
  



End file.
